The Eye of Morning

 

I am the arrow of dawn, and

rise as the archer kneels,

strains his bow, sets the sky ablaze,

dissolves at the borderland

between light and shade, Heaven

and Hell; his firebrands mere crass

cascades of incendiary petals,

guttering in chiaroscuro swells.

Behold the evanescent rose-glow

of morning's opening eye.

 

Chris Hubbard

Perth. 2016