Morning rang out with a hallelujah
amid an unholy roll of the body
as it brushed off the moonlight.
The lovers looked out their window
and were graced a sunrise
worthy of their dreamtime.
Even the fog was deferent
in the face of something larger
than mountains or plans for breakfast.
It was too cold for birdsong
but warm enough for the blues,
so they drew the curtain and reveled.
Yesterday was moot.
Tomorrow was anyone’s guess. Today was meant for reveries made real.
The Word Rummager 
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