The spring morning lightens the dark
and the heaviness of thunder
like a huge rock crashing to the floor
shatters the spring dawn.

I lie in my tent, and listen for the rabbit
and the baby bear to come
softly – through the pouring rain.

Today they feast on jasmine and Russian olive
and a wet, pink flower that has not yet been named

and I read your letters and gather up my sorrows
and put them all in a small waterproof sack
and rise again
to meet the day.

2 thoughts on “Morning

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