This is the hour I love--
the day unfolding into itself
from darkness into light,
the sea and sky yet snug
under a gray duvet
while the slow rise of the sun
uncouples the lovers
from that silky crepe de chine.
Opening to the softness of pastel,
the sea puts on a wrap of palest
green while the sky lounges
in soft blue charmeuse.
I sit in the wonder of beginning,
hear breath upon the water,
smell the slight salty tang.
This is how it must have been,
how it will always be, creation
happening over and over.
Whether the lush garden of paradise
or a sea coast in the tropics,
everything in flux except for the one thing
that stays the same—when Phoebus
drives her fiery chariot across
the sky, or the God of Genesis
says," Let there be light"
the world starts anew,
the black of night rent apart
each day
by the blaze.

From Joy in the Morning (Bellowing Ark Press, 2008).

This poem first appeared in Byline Magazine, where it won  1st place in the 2006 New Talent competition. 
Used here with the author's permission.