January 23, 2008

Too much morning light
can erase the purple and pink-
gray clouds layered above
the hills like cotton ribbons
laid out for an Ozark cotillion.

Leaving, her crunching gravel
dust yellow primrose,
chase the last screech owl
from his nocturnal hunt.

Crow calls break the silence
Monet colors mute and mix
with backwash brush strokes
of too much water
A good sunrise is hard to hold
like tail lights over the last hill.