Resolute

Gleaming white
against the morning's breath,
dew greets my steps.
Birds call softly
from the shadows:
a greeting to the rising Sun,
or a lament to the
lost Mystery
of Night?
Barely glimpsed against
the cityscape horizon,
clouds form mountains
of molten blue
and gold.
My feet turn
of their own accord
as my heart pulls eagerly
toward this
unfolding drama.
But my path lies not
this way
and I turn again,
resolute,
travelling west
into the cloudless day.

Ruth Davmor