After days and nights of rain the skies over Dhaka are washed blue, and the mornings lovely. This weeks poem is in praise of my favourite time of day.

Dawn

With a contented sigh darkness passes

Rolling over the edge of the landscape

Sleep follows yawning, clinging to his shirttails

For the sleepless, long lonely hours are over

Dawn has come at last

Peering distantly over far horizons

Peeping intimately through cracks

Playful fingers reaching through curtain threads

Distinctive fingerprints in floating dust fragments

Dawn gently claims us for the day

Tender light on morning eyes

Cobwebs brushed aside

Curtains flung wide to scatter gold across cold floor

Treetops tentative twittering bursts to full blown song

Dawn has come

Day has come

Again we live in light

And everything is blessed