MORNING DAYDREAMS
for a dream
This year is at an end
and night turned from quiet to rain filled hours,
drops dripping down rusty fire-escapes
light increasing and coming slowly,
the silence with memory meets and stays
and perhaps a turn of phrase may change all,
sip the coffee of waking,
sip the poetry of beginning
try to pace longing
for a word that speaks more than this rain that falls
on fading December days
imagining words as totems that fade to reflection,
looking across a hundred rooftops
seagulls fly towards the bay
I can almost hear their cry with crashing waves
a new year approaches with its own language
can we speak again
can we laugh again
can we begin with hello?
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