Aubade

After a long night of restless dreams, morning again,
    its hope and holy offices, its reckonings.
Amidst the lonesome calls of mourning doves and
    the sweeping flight of swallows, cursive-winged,

the woodpeckers’ woodblock staccatos, varied
    volumes and tones, speeds, morning shines.

Shine in me the way you shine on this unmown field
    and the dandelions gone to seed, shine through

the awns of grasses classified in tribes, wind-swayed
    the way a choir moves. Teach me, Lord

to pray the way swallows wing, the way grass sings.

by Daye Phillippo


Daye Phillippo taught English at Purdue University and her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Poetry, Valparaiso Poetry Review, Presence, The Midwest Quarterly, Cider Press Review, One Art, 2River View and many others. She lives and writes in rural Indiana. Thunderhead (Slant, 2020) was her debut full-length collection. www.dayephillippo.com

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