the white-winged gull
sun on its back, passes
between morning and night

in the line of the doorstep
the veil is lifted away
from a bright gate

drawing the chariot of dawn
between one and the next breath,
swift-footed day
springs up from sleep,
scattering careless light
in long torn ribbons
against the white horizon.

morning song begins
to shift free of drowning midnight
once again, relieved
to have had one more passage.