Island of the Sunrise

(I am aware of the 'scales' and later 'scaled'. Any ideas?)

 

The blue-washed bowl of breaking sky

Lightens as dawn smiles.

An ascent of colour climbs over blue,

As a great yellow explosion

Occurs in unvoiced rapture

Just beneath the firmament;

A triumphant chord resounds

Amid the scales

Of a sapphire-cirrocumulus sky.

Like pages in a book the new breeze flips the grasses—

And thrilling and enjoying the morning,

Warmth tickles and tingles cold shadows,

Erasing gloom.

The cock puffs up his chest

And utters a proud crow,

Vivacity still glistering on dew-sprinkled stipules;

And nature responds with a sigh

In recognition of sacredness—

Offering to the sunrise its life and sensibility.

Bracken in its coarseness hints at euphoria,

And romantically disobliging in wild patterns of growth:

This reminder that nature is home to man,

But not belonging to him,

For he can never tame it

Nor taint it with his own colours.

Airs warm and breezes chirrup;

The sea laps at scaled sands with its crisp voice,

And the new day has greeted its land.

The End

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