“Wilson’s glazed eyes turned out to the ashheaps, where small gray clouds took on fantastic shape and scurried here and there in the faint dawn wind.”

“...he raised his eyes above the black shapes of the trees and saw a small moon, the colour of a lemon, dragged by clouds across the sky. Moons, he thought, were so that men like himself would know they lived here on earth.”

“The bright dawn flooded the room, and swept the fantastic shadows into dusky corners, where they lay shuddering.”

“Gray vines coiled leftward in this northern hemisphere, what winds them shapes the dogwhelk's shell.”

“When small drops began to fall and darken the world in penny-shaped circles, no one around him scurried for cover. For lonely people, rain is a chance to be touched.”

“Dawn's faint breathbreathes with your mouthat the ends of empty streets.Gray light your eyes,sweet drops of dawnon dark hills.Your steps and breathlike the wind of dawnsmother houses.The city shudders,Stones exhale—you are life, an awakening.Star lostin the light of dawn,trill of the breeze,warmth, breath—the night is done.You are light and morning.”