The eye of morning
brings its dawn of perspective
at the retreat of night.
Shadows grow coloured skins
and the birdsong clamour,
which dispelled the night,
distills to pastoral gentility.
Day doesn't break
but grows to maturity
with growing hues,
as nightcreatures slip into retreat
and dayshift light dwellers
slide from night shelter warmth
to adventure.
Day doesn't break,
it opens like hungry beaks
or petals unfurling with the return of light.
Day doesn't break,
but reveals itself
as a whisper of God.
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