(i) October dawn grey but reaching into gold mornings now much lazier and cold so quiet too since songbirds keep their aubades* unexpressed young, hungry, clamour hollow in the nests A few tune up, sporadically thin wintry songs in minor keys so sweet I reach across the empty sheet already feeling bleak. I had not sensed you stir, nor heard the shutting door the bathroom light your au revoir
(ii) there is mourning to be had early, each morning but re-birth and babies too. Memories of May or June and torn from bed a mother is hastening to rock and swathe and hold an infant in esurience dawn rays pierce her sleepy head hair haloed gold, like all Madonna's wear which slips each night between the sheets his arms enfolding each caress, withholding urgency from lust. With kisses speaking wordlessly of love possessed, eternal till dawn's clear parting of the days and sun ups shedding light on just how unattached we always are, to ever after.
*pronounced like o-bard
For my MTB: Critique and Craft prompt: ‘Morning has broken‘ we are writing ‘aubade‘ poetry which both evokes and greets the dawn and/or is the bitter-sweet parting of lovers at first light