imagine swan wings over dark water
they strain and lumber to lift its burden

witness the brown creeper’s timid climb up tree trunks
the white underparts hidden against  rough bark

or the moment the flying squirrel incapable of flight
becomes less mammal and leaves the branch
for a moment before landing

study how variegated leaves
bend into each other
become less discernable

or when the soft skin of magnolias petals
browns just along the edge

or maps folded and unfolded
form creases that blend with borders
confuse roads and cut rivers

watch how daylight breaks the dark of early day
awakens each shadow from slumber

Michael Blaine is an Eastern Shore writer and teaches English at the local community college. Daylight, much like poetry, often bring awareness – it does not care about comfortably.