In the dew-dappled dawn, promises fly,
rising up in murmurations, flowing
into space, tracing patterns in the sky
turning into misty clouds, then throwing
shadows back onto dreams. But then knowing
that the moon rises as the sun sets still
and the earth yet revolves–and will–and will
beyond our mortal lives. So, starlight gleams,
we watch it speckle bright the night—until
it seems, our dreams grow luminous streams.
I haven’t been around much lately at dVerse, and I’m sorry for being so behind in reading. I have a lot going on right now. This is my first attempt at a dizain, this month’s poetry form at dVerse.