by
Mark Strand
Even this late it happens: the coming of love, the coming of light. You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves, stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows, sending up warm bouquets of air. Even this late the bones of the body shine and tomorrow's dust flares into breath.
Ever have those mornings where you wake up and you feel like you never actually went to sleep...like yesterday kind of rolled into today and you don't know how to separate the two in your mind?
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