A Song for Sunrise and Other Solitudes
Shaking off the veil of slumber’s shroud,
I settle, cup in hand, attending to
The bird-chirp choruses
This quiet time allowed.
Hyperion’s call rings clear and loud
And shaking off the shroud of sleep,
I don the cloak of morning’s garb
To face what time and tide allowed.
This morn is mine and so surround
This fleeting time to well consider
What gifts are mine and then attend
To all the challenges that abound.
Palimpsest 
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