When the sun doesn’t rise

Majestically over

The horizon

But diffuses through cloud

Like milk spilling

Through ink

When bird song sends

Rain shivering

Onto sodden paths

When the moon has fizzled damply

And stars have sighed and left

Without saying goodbye

When night passes into day

With no great change

Just black to less black

To pale and washed away

This is greydawn

A haunting morn

Not a time

To be reborn.

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