First Date Poem by David Nelson Bradsher

They walked the dark to dawn,
beneath a moon the hue of butter-crème,
traversing lawn to selfsame lawn,
their breaths cocooned in steam

as they communed, with words
of hushed discovery, all they wished to say,
till shrill alarms from punctual birds
were trumpeting the day.

The sun came up in full,
a tangerine eruption, citrus-bright,
through clouds—as wisped as shredded wool—
thinning in wind and light.

Aurora-born and warm,
illumined strangers who, no longer strange,
would kiss good morning by her dorm
amid the light of change.