MAY MORNING BEFORE SUNRISE,
ON THE SECOND YEAR

Sun hasn't risen,
the land hasn't awoken.
In the depths
of the conifer forest,
the birds are silent,
the mind is dreaming
that this is another day
on another year
and the lost
are to be found
by just walking
up the hill to home,
picking up a phone
and calling,
waking startled
the one person
you would resurrect
if only one could be.

03.05.2010