TANGLE OF DAWN

 

My hopes cling to the first hint of sun:

The wetness of dew damp on my shoes;

Above, the mosaic of bird songs that daylight has spun;

The eastern horizon sprays out flashes of news;

The day spreads over the land like gazelles on the run;

Like a prayer that the heart must peruse.

 

                   --C. S. Cholas

             Edinburg, Texas, August 1994