At Dawn, The Earth,

at Dawn at dawn the earth was in its beginning a sort of genesis that it repeats every-day on the wing the lark was setting... its throat it was clearing... the waters were churning a squirrel crossed the road that was the noon sun burning: the genesis.. sort of.. the waters sliding lazily as in the afternoons as they had in the night... on the rocks the blackening of the white was their mark... the waters climbing a rat, asole and lonely rat was passing throughout the tortuous mains and echoing slabs... at Dawn at Dawn and the lark now on wing skipped kangaroo-like the humid skies to sing