I wake suddenly, the porter
of dreams waking me with his
tremolo before the last stop.
Empty dim lit
Waking down a dark hallway,
I absent mindedly reach for the light
that is not there.
And who is waiting for this
young day lighter than an insect?
The empty streets?
Those dressed in snow
with their anticipation
for the wedding processioners
emerging like Lazarus
from the church that shelters the moon?
Or is it the lonely stop lights going
through their cycles for all the fading
stars lined up single file going West.
Or is this morning only for a certain
postman, that wanders from house
to house like a second hand angel
delivering letters from distant
cousins; unremarkable and long dead,
now given new consideration
because the curious stamps
and their unique return a addresses?
And what do I want from this day?
An expanding blue stillness
fogs my windows. I open
the door and lift the worn
collar of my coat. Walk out
into the falling snow that falls
like so many questions from curious
When I walk I leave no footprints