I wait for inspiration
as cedar boughs wait for dawn,
foreshadowed in a subtle definition,
a whispered dark emerging
from the darkness,
imperceptibly gaining clarity
until they stand in silent, muted green
And then suddenly
dawn blazes through,
lights them up with gold,
suffuses them
with incandescent glory
I wait, for
sure as dawn,
it will come.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 30, 2014
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