Persimmon Pause

I love persimmon.

Perfumed, perfectly plump fruit.

Cream orange confection.

Exotic sensor.

Puckers lips when unripened.

Old fashioned dessert.

Dawn

Fresh new day.

Birds fly south with tidings of their journey.

We're dug in up north hoping for snow.

Feeling light grow we dream blue.

We're not missing sleep, or million dollar deals, 

or mates, or fame, or flattery. 

Peace rises like dawn from the dark side of the world 

and from the sweet song of our beating hearts.

Good morning.