Cold and smooth my fingers rub together for heat
in the dewy winds of early morning.
The light is soft
as it falls upon the rich green
of outside.
Obscured through thin nylon.
A dull ache on a bony shoulder
that had pressed into
empty inches
through a night of undecided rest
and some crusted bits
of the woods in my eyes.
Gentle trills
broken
by the occasional
resonance of a caw
all dissolving into the rippling leaves
of trees weighed down by the
abundance of summer.
The barely warmed flesh of my fingers
reaching to unzip and
waft in the chilled stickiness of dawn.
Unaware of the meaning of time
besides the need to move
up
and
out
towards the day.
