Dawn is the Distance

Dawn is the distance
from year to year.

It is the remembered kiss
of a girl walking home,
scented warm
beneath her clothes,
wise to the ways
of winter.

Dawn is a long train
that keeps me waiting
in worn out shoes,
a ghost held fast
by wisps of smoke.

It is the distance
between this heart
and every other �
infinite, but not quite real.

I�ve seen it with my eyes:
when fields and trees
commend the sky,
a world of light is born.

February 11, 2006

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