The Early Bird

I am falling


Don’t look at me like it’s too early:

My head is heavy on my shoulders

I’m breathing slow,

I’m breathing deep


I am crawling


This house I’ve never had a room in,

Four walls, a couch with tired linen,

Your voice – my quiet,

Endless shame


I am leaving


The flood of memories is coming

To sweep me off my feet, still running

After the ultimate illusions

Of hope and light



I’m awake

I feel how spring spreads wings above me,

I hear how autumn mourns its summer

And winter is my quiet,

Endless shame