the light comes earlier, dawn grasps at clouds
who yield their shrouds and pass on
the night: gone
Caveat: Poem #627
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the light comes earlier, dawn grasps at clouds
who yield their shrouds and pass on
the night: gone
Comments are closed.
I love this poem. I believe its in one of those Welsh (?) forms you were using for a while. I like the assonance of both vowels and consonants (or is there another term for consonants that sound like each other in poetry?). And balance and imbalance between the lines is very affecting.