Closing Colors Poem by Patrick Czyz

Closing Colors



At each daily start,
When Dawn drives the peal-pressed cart
Upon the rounded remote rim of sky,
The sight creates a glint-sung hymn:
Like the gleaming red rim of a goblet
Spewing its sweet silted rivulet,
Sprinkled with sun-reigned rays
Onto the solid ruled hue,
So turning it to yellow-pink yew.

All this... when two closing colors crochet
Into blue-bounded day.

Sunday, February 22, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: morning
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
When I flew in an airplane early in the morning, I saw on top the orange of sunrise over the dark blue of dusk. While it is per se a neat poem about morning, it is fundamentally about conflicts resolved by the heart.
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