An hour before the rush i listen
the sound of a wavering crow in dew,
a watery cloud in darkened distance
dancing on a skyline of crimson blue.
Before the heads in paradise rise their eyes
from the frantic dreams of their yesterdays,
in the perfect hour of sunrise
a sleeping dog snores on patio clay.
Lovers unravel their crinkled bedsheets
glued dust from sleepy eyes smeared on warm pillows,
tilting the shadowed curtain on a empty street
ink from sad dreams is the breath of cold sorrow.
A gush of wind hit’s the brain of a tree
causing acorns to fall like sinking bullets in a stream,
fulvous-coloued fox palters the rustling green
ripping newspaper print from a toppled black bin.
From the open window of sweating slumber
pale tint of the sleeping night slowly fades,
flooding the morning with damp summer,
this rushing birth to the beginning of day.
MJ DUGGAN.
Gorgeous imagery MJ, I agree best not to rush, especially before embarking on a day in an 9-5 City job