20 May, Valla
I am standing above the world, waiting for the visitor.
Eos has reluctantly done her duty, a red streak retarded
by rucks of dark rain. I’m willing the ocean to rush me,
and it’s working. The horizon has become a concert hall,
I invite the surging vibrations to infiltrate, decibels to ring
my neurons. I stretch, shoulders back, muscles tighten
then relax, easing into tai chi swings and breath control.
One day the day will come when I will say, Please
– not knowing who I’m talking to – let me have one more dawn,
or the day will come when I will say, please, no more dawns,
and I might hear a reply, or I might not.
The day cracks open, the yolk is spreading again