Look at me; I can see my reflection in the glass
doors as I pull them wide.

I was running before a storm
and I could smell the rain
above the dusted plains
heavy and gray, what held it there?

She ran down the road—
I felt the dust in my throat:
dust yellow like chalk,
like a memory.

Look at me; I can see my reflection in the glass
chandeliers that clink overhead.

Tempest-tossed in the rising wind
that sent things into flight.
She—I?—bit her fingernails
and looked around with widened eyes.

Breaking through the horizons
With golden rays of haze
Sparkling the dew, and glinting
Upon the waters
Sloping rain drenched plains
Casting yellow rays unto the hills
Mountains tall, shadows in morn
The sky is majestic
As the birds sing

Golden-green shines in the leaves
Forest dark is lightened by fire
And the creatures stir
The shadows blown away
The fresh winds come
The brightness blinds
As it blushes in the clouds
Something comes over dark fields
It is dawn