Touched by morning light
the night releases hold
and gives the rain a chance
to sing her water song
of sweet refrain ...

She fills the earth with
petricor and gives a sigh
while trees of green
respire -grow like
benefactor arms

On morning's loft
a rose climbs soft,
she has no fear
of night nor day;

in sweet refrain
she sings the song of golden morn
until the bangs of night are shorn.