Poem XVII

I embrace the dawn in summertime
When the rose rises in my chest
And no light has yet kissed
The slumbering ground.
The air stirs waking slowly
A warm-blooded beast whose presence is felt
In swarming shadows that make their last stand
In corners and neglected alleyways.
I walk along
And the air comes alive at my passing
Stones voice their lament
Birds that have never flown
Fly before me.