AUBADE

As I crawl out from sleep

still clutching to me shreds

and shards of dreams,

I glimpse on waking

a bright triangle of light

between the curtains'pull.

Dawn beckons and I rise to meet it's gaze.

The barn before me

holds a weather-vane

gilded by early sun.

Beyond, huge horse-chestnut's

iridescent green. A black dog

trots beside the farmer's stride.

I glance into the mirror

and remember yesterday.

What's come between

those hours of dusk and dawn?

Sleep slides its shutter down

but leaves a memory

like the bright curtain gap.

Yesterday I flew from Ireland

above clouds solid as Antarctica

leaving the greening rain,

the camaraderie, the spilling words

and words and words. I cheer myself with

'I will go again'

and next time see a rainbow

span the southern view.