Pre-Sunrise Sestina

thunder on the mountain

Pointe-Claire, Quebec — Photos by Jonathan Potter ⓒ 2024

The stirring in my heart I felt
this morning stirred me to
wakefulness in the dim
light of the pre-sunrise dawn.
I rolled over on my back
and touched my neck to check my

pulse, wondering about my
family history felt
in the mirror and the back
of my mind, pointing me to
an image of the dark dawn,
a liaison with death’s dim

grim grin looking back at my dim
reflection blinding my
dilated pupils’ pre-dawn
shuffling walk I felt
was needed in order to
pee before going back

to bed to touch the lovely back
of my lover in the dim
calm of our marriage bed, to
sleep a little more in my
great good fortune deeply felt,
then to rise with her at dawn.

“How very early comes the dawn
this time of year.” And I say back,
“How early and late I’ve felt
our love refuse to grow dim.”
And she says, “I will come with you, my
lovely poet.” “I’d love you to,”

I say. We get in the car to
go to the river where the dawn
is overlaid with all our
past and future going back
to our dreams and memories’ dim
and vivid images first felt

when we felt the river flow to
the dim majesty of the dawn —
our going and our coming back.

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