when I rise in dark
and sense dawn’s pause
before her outward breath

see first light limning
firs at back field’s edge
or hear doves coo

what cannot pass away
held both in form

and formless—flash
of emerald wing
the scent of frosty air

sphere’s unheard psalm
rings pure and wide
fresh and ever new

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.