out in the gold soaked
horizon of the new day
where aviators draw
pristine white chalk
marks across the blue
bowl holding dark
drifts of floating waters
dreaming of dry land
out in this essence
of renewing light and
time and chances to
become more than
what was done or
said merely 24 hours
before this moment
of fire drenched hues
out among it all with
awakening birds that
have already taken to
the air to navigate their
way to where their
wills drive them home
out in all of this I set
my thoughts of you
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