Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Before Sunrise

All kin, we sleep in
The small emancipated kingdom
That is my own country; dawn finds
Them motionless but for the
Steady breathing, filling
Then daybreak:
Bark, bleat, birdsong
Signal their return to
Those other nations,
Air filled again with their

© 2011 Wrexie Bardaglio, Co-editor, Spiracle Journal


Barbara said...

Like the breaking of a fast, the breaking of day nourishes, as soundlessness
fills with sounds. How beautifully this poem breathes life into the day.

Emeniano Acain Somoza, Jr. said...

Not a single shade and color or, shadow and light wasted -- this is tonalism at its frameless finest.

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