before the clouds can break above the mind
when hazy meadows hover after eyes
and heavy clouds hang in the heart and head.
Inquest in his searching eyes, swiv'ling skull
is wisdom's guise--doubt, cynicism and
pride prompts present'ment and unrest. He chides
with spiked tongue and talons, disturbs the fog.
But the Sun comes, cutting clouds, dispelling
doubt and expelling all unease. Now new light
colors meadows in the dawn; and diff'rent
birds sing down my sanguine mornings.
I do not hear the night bird's sound anymore.
I hang up his wings to the perpetual day.
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