The morning after
a rainstorm
like so many other mornings after,
found unspoken.
Opening one eyelid in the thin light:
Lightning-scattered leaves, thunder-tangled branches,
closed furrows of grass still damp from the downpour.
A hesitant awakening into the humid day,
Some small pressure change,
Languid limbs unfolded at dawn,
draped with verdant sleepiness.
And in the air, the quiet uncertainty
that memories of the night before are not
quite
real.
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