By Leighton Tanaka, TIWP Student

Blue dawn across cold fingertips. Out the open window,  summer sky through the willow. Eyes wide, hollow spaces. Birds weave. Frail clouds. Slumber is gone. A silent call. Awaken slow. Dragged by the breeze. The calls of the raven, beckonings of the sea. The death of the daylight. Filter through, comes the sun. Touch the skin. Await the call. Before trying, the long day fades away. Words fall from the skies. A gentle silhouette. The bittersweet smell of daybreak. The endless call.

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