The dawn drinks
the darkness

until tipsy
with light

it staggers
all over the place

knocking birds
off of branches

so that they fall
into flight

and even
artificial ponds

at the back of
suburban gardens

mirror

how beautiful
the time has become

as we hold hands
even in sleep.

Dónall Dempsey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/holding-hands-4/