photo by E. P. Meagher
FIRST THING
Sun-driven air waits for dawn to break,
irritates the drake of an oil slick lagoon.
Unmated crickets continue chirping
as their sounds turn-tide on silver-blue
and slip seaward on the last moon-swells.
Birds wake before the gray light takes them,
long before the fishers break the smooth horizon.
Front-line trees with uncertain motion
start to fluff and prune their pink leaves,
each morning between first light and first thing.