Sunrise steps and flitting birds

Tell me, sunrise steps
and breaths of blue skies,
what became of
yesterday’s ashy gloom?
Where went the puddles
on this mottled skin?
Who stood vigil
as they passed from here?
Tell me, little winter birds
flitting in the trees,
did you greet the sun
or did the day greet you?
I’ve only ever known
my own answer,
so I’m curious to see
what you have to say.

(dtn)

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