The Peace of Dawn is Not Illusory

Everywhere on the tongues of birds
and in their song
your name emerges,
flutters near my temples and comes to rest
in my chest.
I speak it with them,
embrace it as dearly as if it were you
this name
this gathering of consonants
and vowel, each sound a pearl dropping
into my hand and each day
the treasure mounting.

              – PBSweeney

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