Dawning,
grey sky dipping reverentially
to unseen tremors of bright
hiding below the horizon
passive except in the choice to face east
(or here in the north, mostly east),
accepting reverberations of light
and how they change the dark we know.
Fait accompli
even in a piercing grey
with no visible sun,
the dawning will happen
and happened years ago
and will rise again tomorrow.
The becoming is now in these cool shadows
and now in these streaks of arriving
and now in the disruption of familiar dark by the carnival of glory,
and now in the riot of shining
that warms the heart again
on its journey to evening.