Wings of night beat
gently against her rising vapors,
as early light mutates.
Hills blacken the predawn,
calling and recalling eons before
their protean life formed.
Blackness glides
beneath our heartbeats.
The coursing ocean pulses on.
The firmament lashes out
against our waywardness.
Rage, the depths writhe.
Fertile crescent pierces
dim lit islands off the shore,
roughened stones fracture.
Cabin lights glow
scattered in the close cove
bathing the dancing hemlocks.
Muted morning begins
to sing another soft day into life.
Single songbird trills.
The light is close upon us now,
trembling below the hills’ shoulders.
She breathes and water speaks.
Crying out from the blackness
a small voice of hope strings
her liquid melody.
Dim, the black recedes
as day moves upon her darkness.
The orb is quickened.
Smoky Quartz 