The balcony

The gold of it rises from pure sunrise
Of my balcony’s shadows yet to form,
Birds forming to wake sleeping house.

When they do they are vague vain v’s
Painted in the gold of dawn’s new sky.

Just juxtapose yellow leaf with paper,
The paper of a pink flower trembling
In deep awe before a passing breeze.

You now have pink plus yellow frame
In the slightly inebriated morning sky
Without its native hues of resolution.

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