By your leave

In fine morning fettle and without so much as a by your leave,

she left.

Early to rise she'd been, with a clear head, a full heart

and sunshine winding through her soul

towards her eyes.

Always in wild revolt against herself 

sleep was never of too much concern,

like a bairn with beginners eyes

she'd see in the almost-light-now's

as if each were precious possibilities

too curious to pass up.

And she thrived

as if defying sleep brought with it a shortcut

to different clarities and vibrations.
She'd stay you know if she could
and find the best in that
too.