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
