© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2011
I over slept this morning but had awakened just in time to see the barely discernible flush of clouds emerge from a grayed blue blanket in the western sky. Little by little, the clouds, the blue, the whole vista-trees, houses, became clear. The sun rises in the east, but its light is reflected in the west. Standing alone in the quiet of my kitchen, the magic of the transition reminded me of some of the plates of illustrations done by Edmund Dulac for The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám .
Night whispers, “Awake!”
Naked Morn beams, flushed, alight.
Breathless fades the Night.