Through the window, what light gives
new meaning in the day. Ultramarine
waters turned blue green, live
oak leaves lightened, shaken awake,
a south wind combing the Spanish moss
and carrying clouds ashore: altocumulus
castellanus, gathered overnight,
formed from the mortar of the sea—
first signs of weather
that would paint the sunrise stone.
But now, twilight, final hour of possum
and lunatic flowers. Somnolence of stars.
The moon stretches its shape
over the wide sea, coyly, as a lover
having thrown off the sheets. Wave
sounds mask sounds of breathing—
void the mind preemptively fills.
From the last soft light before sunrise,
two bluebirds light on a power line.
Electricity passes between them.