A Dawn Not Red

This dawn does not bleed, as you did.
There is no hot red feathering outward

over an immense sky. This dawn
is pale, faint, pinched, contained. In this still, cold

quietude, there is yet an expansive
silent hope. The sky is clear, clean, and bright.

The broadness of what opens over us
is laced, lightly, with flecks of clouds,

like a garment trimmed with ribbons,
or a lighthearted comment edged

with laughter. Closer, small blade-winged birds
dart in twining airborne paths, stitching

graceful lazy loops and calm curls,
before returning to nest here,

in these short tough shrubs, close at hand,
singing short chirrups, contented queries.

We can call that joy, even if
it never blazes, or perhaps because.

for Karen D.

4 responses to “A Dawn Not Red

  1. I liked your poem, especially, “stitching

    graceful lazy loops and calm curls,”

    Are you familiar with Luisa Igloria? She’s one of my favorites.

  2. I couldn’t possibly say familiar with Luisa, or even her work, however I have read a couple pieces by her and we have friends in common. I thank you for mentioning her, which usually results in my focusing attention on someone’s work for a while and buying a book or two! Much appreciated.

  3. Check out Luisa’s amazing daily series of poems at:


    She allows one-half hour per morning and turns out some excellent verse.

  4. Thanks! I found those yesterday, but only the ones for November. Where did you find the bit about her process? I can’t imagine. When I work on poems for NaPoWriMo, I find myself spending 1-2 hours a day typically, usually from my normal bedtime on into the wee hours of the night, with rough drafts begun while riding the bus in the morning, which is why I find myself so profoundly exhausted by the end of the night. I find it hard to imagine doing a half hour, and JUST a half hour a day. Wow!

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