Aurore

Pierced,
by warming dew,
the dripping leaves
fall,
like the tears of trees.

Echoes of a lonely night,
lost rays,
of dead sunshine,
nothing left but steam,
and cold water
to trickle down gutters,
along with,
the debris and hubris,
drunks,
and disease. 

A diesel engine roars,
and nighttime flickers,
casting an auburn stare,
of panoramic golds,
an inspiring obligation,
for a few old bones,
who quiver and ache,
from the bitter taste,
of daylight.

Oh the the moment,
between night and day,
to be up in the rising swell,
witness to the turbulent parade
mixing our before and afters,
on a timeless interstate. 

Of all the things there are to see,
this is the one,
that will always be precious to me.