Morning: opening
room darkening blinds
in January, acting
on hope
not that there
will be light, as that
tremendous gift
is given;
more that overnight
nothing will have made
what’s outside less
welcoming
than when they were
closed last night at
dusk. That there will
have been
no ice, no snow.
That there will have been
no casual vandalism. That
something still stands
of what we left to
night and shadow
when we tucked ourselves in
till this moment, hoping
it would happen
as easily as morning
can come in January, that
it would happen at all.
Dark Matter 
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