First Light

Darkness begins to fade as
Black begins to bleed into blue
across the canvas of sky

What can we call morning
aside from the very thing it is?

Waking into the humid warmth
of a land older than civilization
Turning body upright in the hammock
Letting feet touch tiled floor
The birds are already speaking
just outside the doors
in the canopy of trees
The town bell is struck
to mark the passing of an hour
An old motorcycle
passes by outside
as it makes its way
towards the hunt