…in her luscious robes

The morning reclines in her luscious robes
beneath the boughs of petalled trees
between the lines of sand and sea
from her blushing throne she paints the sky
with her softest shades
then reclining in her secret groves
she relishes the rivulets that bleed into the day
a gentle wounding, absent of suffering
erasing the sleepy shadows
preparing the day for the impending light
she blows a soft kiss to the departing night
© Ann Bagnall