The roving foghorns of distant ports
Cast a daily sobering blare
Dispatched by dawn’s golden halo
And drawn in beneath,the high waning crescent

I savor each note
That mournfully christens my days
Charmed by a baritone awaking
As I climb and ease my way

Pressed onto dew clad blades of green
I immerse myself into daybreak’s mystery
The high and mighty greetings of fowls
Emboldened my meek resolve to remain

Within
Quaint surroundings
Elixirs simmer, bubble and brew
Tossing its seductive and soothing plume
Where I meet them anxiously
Depleted and worn

Scalding sips
Trouble once docile pondering
Weaving the inner workings of my time
Where to be
In what way will it sear me the least?
How, can i stomach to maintain?