Dawn. As light liberates all from the nation of night the face opposite yours comes into view, from dim to delight, lifting the nearly silent bedroom to a quiet heaven, save for low slow breathing.
Remaining for a solution to find you is the art of avoidance.
Memory cracks in the direction of slabs of disrecognized selves and perpendicular to polite guidance.
Siren song of the winter wind, a mountain’s soothing hymn, courses like river round sharp peaks, bullies branches until they creek, and sweeps down the narrow snowy path.
truth made new.