In the morning light
they say things are different
but I find, differently,
that there are no things
in the morning, just light
Come with me and fly
I tell to my little song
it has been enclosed in my heart
where it terrorized and hid
from the terror outside
The song now grows a yelping
strangely I no longer hear
any melody or rhythm
except in the breathing between
that sometimes sounds hoarse
As a side comment
I should like to note
that the sky is blue
that the leaves are green
and the reservoir is replenished