Out of the entangled pieces and into weaved socks which unwind over my knee. The clock striking 6am.
Swooshing tree twigs smooch the outside space of window, and fresh declaring the landing of autumn.
Gone away to welcome the morning. This moment is particularly mine. Dew dozes sluggishly twisting up on the field, and the sun is about to pop the world ablaze.
Not attached to something. In an open grass, ride wild, pursuing nectar light, spots arousing.
Every so often I fail to hear the mornings. They slither immediately betwixt my fingertips.
Be that as it may, not this one. I’m clutching that one. Autumn is on the corner. Give it a chance to be brimming with sun risings like these.