Poem:

The sky has wiped its slate,

Obscure but almost white,

With Dawn emerging coyly,

Casting her soft light

Upon the gracious charm

Of Nature in full view,

Calling her so vibrantly,

Tenderly and true.

Before the rising sun,

Exacting but sublime,

Takes full measure of

The brevity of time,

Dawn gracefully advances

With certainty reborn,

Straight up the traveled path

Of time to meet the Morn,

And like the glib recital

Of an all-too-famous rhyme,

She soon  returns but softly

And daintily in time.