there is beauty in the morning;
she rises like a tentative mist
glowing from an eastern sun:
soft, fullsome, backlit and bright
becoming one within this new light
a freshly awake, compelling image
warmed by promised dawn’s first flight
leaving behind a colder, darker night
for the challenge of some new height
upon which she falls within my sight
and i am carried by it through this day
full of colour,
absent of the ever-present gray
now banished by a more determined thought –
that hope is found, when hope is sought.