Morning, Tod

It's the beginning again.
Morning step and I'm living again,
Breathing something new and then
Snail can sense the sun.

Sidewalk, shell turned over but
My patient pal has gone to cut
Slimy trails in clouds of what
I'll never care to know.

Tod is too a foreign word,
German from the books, I've heard.
As long as Copper stains the sword,
The Phoenix flies at dawn.