happens every day

The Photographer

Every day it happens. 

Happens every day.

After night’s amens.

Before a single ray.

Planet Earth poses

And doesn’t move 

Like a bed of roses

Avant le joli bouquet.

In flagrante love:

Faceless yet faced.

 

Every day it happens. 

Happens every day.

After night’s amens.

Before a single ray.

But today for the first

Time, I satisfy a thirst.

I leave my place

Behind the lens  

And wrap my arms

Around dawn’s waist. 

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