The dawn drinks
the darkness
until tipsy
with light
it staggers
all over the place
knocking birds
off of branches
so that they fall
into flight
and even
artificial ponds
at the back of
suburban gardens
mirror
how beautiful
the time has become
as we hold hands
even in sleep.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/holding-hands-4/
