Ride at Dawn

Not so caught
In critical assessment
Of everything seen
That I am blind
To a candy cane sunrise
Erupting over snow peaked
Violet mountains
Doubling their grandeur
In a glass lagoon

Or brash emerald drakes
Crashing the calm
No doubt
Trying to catch
A lifelong eye
From some young hen

Or even the amber glow of
Clock towers
Guaranteeing
A five minute reprieve
From this morning commute
To breathe the perfume
Of still March air and
For one moment
Let myself live
Inside this postcard