There has been darkness these mornings.
Rain falling relentlessly on the windowpanes.
Tidal waves forming on the crest of the mind.
But it is only us. Those who wonder and wait.
For others. It is sleep.
It is night continuing into morning.
A peaceful journey into wet dreams and hot places.
Shades down. Me. You.
Wake watching sleep. Each morning.
Who is the pensive and utter fool?
Shady down eyes in envy of deep, muttered breaths.
Background music for the listener.
Can’t speak. Can’t sing.
Only watch. It.
That tree weeping in glory. The one who takes Spring back.
You will wake tomorrow with nothing of what I know.
Tree. You will be there only with secrets.
Of wet dreams. Wilted leaves. The breast of the bird
Who hid. Deep inside of you.
Now flying away in search of another home.