You might call this a counterfeit dawn
The shades of blue across walls and lawn.
The tangible sweetness of the spring air.
The birdsong, from their be-twigged lairs.
Deepening dark (but by the week it grows slower,
the sun is strengthening, no longer getting lower).
A tear in the benevolent cloud-gloom reveals a shaft of sunset light.
A final chorus before the onset of night.