isobelmtl

At the end of summer

I started to wake very early.

I sat on an old chaise-lounge

next to the patio door.

At about five-thirty the big star

would start to climb above the nearby rooftops.

Nearby, and yet so far, so far away.

Brilliant and large it slowly climbed

up the dark sky while I checked my mail

or did my puzzles. The real puzzle was

why that star loved me so on early mornings of late summer,

I looked up often, tracking its course

as it glittered down on me, drawing me into

the soft day.

Below it an expanse of pearl or rose lightened up

as it became smaller, fainter and then left me

to the tender care of my day.