The morning comes,
In gullwing grey,
With snow upon her breath,
To dance with slow and fragile steps,
Upon the frosted grass below,
Tracing out the feathered patterns,
Delicate and furred,
Where each diamond point;
A mirror to the heavens,
Glows with inner fire.
A myriad of stars,
Earthbound until the risen sun,
Bestows sweet freedom.
Allowing a return,
Amongst the tentacles of mist,
That writhe upon the warming air.