Healing Poems 320

Morning

Against all probability our bulbs have blossomed,
opened their white rooms, given their assent.
I pull myself from your breathing to take a closer look.
It happened overnight.

Outside a flock of birds folds and unfolds its single body.
I start the coffee. Light comes
from impossible directions.

You are still asleep.
I cup the curve of your skull with my hand.
Alive, sleeping.
Light rises on the flame-colored bricks.

~ Kristen Case

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