The sun on the wall
throws rose shadows
with an invisible perfume.
The moon on the wall
grows those shadows
while the air is heady
with nightly calls.
Dawn on the wall
has no shadows
except morning mist,
and a damp perfume
that ladens the air,
unfurling with
early morning secrecy
your wings
through an open window.
Sally Plumb
Sally Plumb Plumb
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/flight-29/
