In the small light of morning,
everything comes clear.
Autumn dogwood’s red berries,
starred with black stems, convex light,
their motionless leaves lilac-rimmed.
Maples turned overnight. Yellow
fumes from green, orange from yellow,
colors proved certain by contrast,
When you walk into that light
hang your sleep on a chair.
Hang your lethargy.
Wind nudges a thin, glistening layer
of dew over fronds. Air
seethes with the odor
of rinsed cones, of pines immured
in damp silence.
Stay, new conception. Endure.
I can see you, legs taking up chunks
of the landscape, abandoning
the places you imagined
you stood only moments ago.