Is this morning any different?

I rose as from the dead.

Sleep, that shadow of

Turning and turning,

Tuck dreams in

The sheets.

*

What of this day?

I’m awake enough to see

The liquid sky above and

Snow lightly salting

The patio.

*

Why the stillness?

I shift in this chair

Like a first-grade boy.

The wonder.

*

Are you here?

You were yesterday.

The faith.

*

Who am I?

I Am.

*

YOU.