Morning comes early now
Without tip toes or slow swings of the brush
that clears the cobwebs ensnaring the brain
Morning now comes with a sudden rush
Of a bright day streaming in
Startling our spirit neighbors just about to settle for a feast.
The caution to open an eye
And spy the dove stretching in the dew
Is lost in the shock of time and schedules set by machines and monsters
Morning comes early now without warning
Before the cockerel has cleared his throat to announce the day
Before the love has drained her languidity.
The start is not waiting for the end to begin
The flywheel is now rolling the spinner.
Morning comes too early now.
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