the shriek of breaking day 
after Percy Byshe Shelley's 
The Call of the Open

when whiff and color part

days are wan and tired

when morning dew affronts

a far north wild and wired

the fortitude of frost

a pink sun's glow collides

spare whispers flutter pillows

dark areolas meet

a rising pinch of heaven

in one essential sun

The Call of the Open

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Which yet joined not scent to hue,     
Crown the pale year weak and new;
When the night is left behind
In the deep east, dun and blind,
And the blue noon is over us,
And the multitudinous
Billows murmur at our feet,
Where the earth and ocean meet,
And all things seem only one
In the universal sun.