Circle of Morning

I sat and watched the sun come up.

I could hear it spreading across the vault of the softening sky;

hear the aural beauty,

the song, the earthen majesty of its touch,

the warmth and blessing,

the nourishment of its grace.

Color fading into gray

- another little death -

sweeping backward from where it first emerged;

the arc complete

the song fading into silence,

into the circle of morning.