Stars of Morning.

Sleep seems a sensation of the past.

The night hours have become half dreams,

Some kind of between world trapped in crazy shadows.

Reality becomes blurred, a shadow on dark water

Voices whispering from some distant place.

Stars give way to morning and the first blackbird stirs.

The tawny owl returns to roost;

I sense the first splutter of emerging dawn,

The cold light folding in from the fields,

Spectres dancing the dew path.

The blackbird begins its song, then another, and another;

I hear a wren scold the dawn, a song thrush,

Then a distant curlew below the Edge,

Bubbling like spring water.

The light is stronger now, daylight comes creeping

And the world is suddenly on view.

The stars have melted to infinity

As if they never were;

They too have gone to roost

To return in the blue quiet of memory.