The Saturday-town was waking up
and the mother-mist
was rising from her brood
of many houses.
I, alone, sat watching
with wake-up heart
and child-soul that wanted to fly
across house tops
to that far off horizon
with new promises
not yet stirring.
Those promises still unhatched
beneath the mother-mist.
But now,
the day comes on
and I must leave
the morning-city.
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