Itatiaia morning on the mount

 The spirit of the morning in the first rays
Dew is a cloak the land wears
Until the moment the full sun bears down on it
The dew is a cloak a layer of wholeness

silence is it's reign
A broad shrine
humble awakening
sun stretched out

House fronts are bare and still
some early riser is currently praying
realizing another piece of their unfinished puzzle
Now illuminated overhead or through windows

Morning a carpet
being drawn in detail by the sun
Feel it forming from the corners of the land
You might be someone's horizon

Wind doesn't exist 
air is simply pushed by the godlike mountain
The horizon a wide mouth
feel it forming the the corners of a smile