I reciprocate sunrise via roasted scent of rice and tea sleeves fall whole post-sleep toward this hand-filled bag of tea
as dry blue morning equals the mock orange dogwood and magnolia slippers mask floor's echo and its shine no natural line between two points is fixed infinity intones proof of itself in yellow petals pastel wild as small footprints make earth new mistakes now covered shift the view first syllables remain thought amid the shoots of early light and dew sheila e. murphy
