wrapped in deep darkness of winter daybreak.
The rain settles in on the grasses
and the iris that were taunted into sprouting
by a temperate autumn.
Night dreams linger
the lost dog and the house come loose
meeting the new day within the shadow
of a long dawn.
Morning greets its facing partner too
in a tentative embrace
the place between it and the leaving night
as much of mystery as we will know
before our feet abandon earth.
by Jane Flint
My eye sees the iris today
because of your poem
and the blue and white
wrap round and round
enclosing us both -