before the cockcrow

Slate makes love to coral on the horizon;
Mother nature applies a gentle rouge to
The old night sky and it is young once more
With the blooming blush of renewal.
Great pines stand sentinel to the dawn,
Dark of brow and proud to witness the
Way the light touches the palette above
Them, chasing the midnight bruise from
Her lovely celestial visage. Here is empyrean,
As angels snuff the silent stars and sway
The only sound they make is birdsong.
Concord comes moments before the cockcrow.