this day

i wait for it
the light over purple mountains
that will come
like the wings of the egrets
shushing the morning
carrying my breath to the sky
it will come
spilling across farmland
and forest
along the plateau
dipping valley after valley
until it finds me
waiting
last hill before the sea
paints my shirt in blues
draws hair and eyes
from the shadow of night
claims my hands etched in time and light
willing and waiting for this day.

 

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