the beautiful promise of tomorrow

In the still moments before dawn,

when the deep lavender sky

paints with a broad dark-pastel brush,

I invest morning thots on a good wind,

and several noble gases of my breath

displace the coolness of yesterday’s

unfulfilled wishes,

made by false hearts on slow journeys

back through days that promised so much

and delivered frosty sorrow.

My high hopes diffuse into pink clouds

that soon warm and bubble,

pushing morning into afternoon,

flowing solemnly with faith anew

that descends in a cleansing evening rain,

silver drops into rivulets

rivulets into streams

streams into rivers

rivers into the beautiful promise of tomorrow