Morning rituals

Rise every morning,
in search of light, clarity;
chase the horizon.

No reason to stay

Clear skies, green signals,
bare streets, waiting horizons,
prepare to take off.

White, light on sight,
as swans in a lake
flowing with a breeze,
fluffy puffs of spring
glide across my gaze.

As tiptoeing at midnight
lest we awaken ghosts,
floating, beyond reach—
like truffle, treacle tarts,
hover those clouds.

Seeing fresh fruit ripe

the fruits of early rising

nature flowering