It is morning
The air is fresh
The cold air says
That you are alive
That your faculties are with you
That your toes
And other extremities
Have felt the iridescence of nature
Outside
Beyond the tress
And over the railway track
Where the pixies
And the piccolo's
Where the gypsies
And the gigolo's
Where the wonder-stuff
And the ticker-tape abound
You wake again
Later now
Before it was morning
Later now; before it was freshness herself
Before the cold air swept over
Before the faculties considered their curriculum
Before your toes
And other extreme deities
Impressed with your prescience of nature
Strode out from under canvas
In a clearing, on the run, always
Always on the run with the wonder-stuff
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