Low morning sun

Blanches the lilacs

White like sweet

Little lavender jujubes

Shadows beneath the

Suns reach glisten

In morning dew

Like wet ink

Ivory sunslit slivers

Dance like ghosts

Long and sinewy

They grow shrink

As Saul rises

The last of

Last nights rain

Drips from gutters

Like tea from

Hot wet spoons

As yawning birds

Call each other

This my love

Is morning here