DAY

Dawn is up at my window, and in the May-tree

The finches gossip, and tits, and beautiful sparrows

With feathers bright and brown as September hazels.

The sunlight is here, filtered through rosy curtains,

Docile and disembodied, a ghost of sunlight,

A gentle light to greet the dreamer returning.

Part the curtains. I give you salutation

Day, clear day; let us be friendly fellows.

Come.... I hear the Liars about the city.