Dawn

The night has reached its acme; now its hold
Is loosened as the tide of battle turns.
The calm persistent sparks of surging gold
Pour down until the cloth of darkness burns.
Cascades of streaming rays illumine earth
And sky; as darkness cowers daylight makes
Its final brilliant breakthrough. Thus the birth
Of day is wrought and thus the world awakes.
Vague murmurs float from trees where birds, unsure
Of when their cue is, whisper thrilling swells
Which grow into a symphony of pure
Celestial harmony. These sentinels
Of dawn alert the members of the world
To watch for all the beauty then unfurled.


April Abraham
Spring, 1970


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