When gifted an early morning,
when something wakes you, holds you
in its pre-dawn hand and will not let you go…
No matter the treasure bestowed on you
in the night, when you wake,
keep something for yourself.
It is the air itself
that saves us.
Night’s cool cover, a cloth
on our burning face…
I love your broken edge,
the way you spill into the sea;
with your stalwart cliffs eroding,
you are beautiful…