I lie awake
At daybreak.
The orange sun
Lifts an eyebrow
Above the distant treeline
Winking away the night.
The wind rises
And gently caresses
The light blue
Lake's surface.
Birch leaves dance
To the breezes' soft whisper
And light dances with shadow
On my cabin walls.
A loon sings to the sunrise
And morning opens like a rose.
At day's end
The light bends
And peaks coyly from beneath
A distant western skirt of clouds
Washed orange, peach, and pink
By the dying sun.
While in the east
A silent orange moon
Raises its eyelid
Over a darkening horizon
And slowly changes its dress
From tangerine to gold to silver
As it climbs an inky sky.
A loon sings to the moonrise
And night settles like a blanket.
