That came as it could through the window slats,
A gentle grey-blue gently grew and with living green unfurled,
Announced with unabashed voice of chirpy bird chat,
I did not welcome such things hospitably this morn,
I tossed and turned; sleeping lost and waking spurned,
And grumbled at the host of noise and life again reborn,
Yet I awoke - though from thoughts of care as much as song.
Torn, I seem, between two worlds; or rather, chosen, picked apart,
Embracing cares like pillows, and avoiding beauty like bright light,
Yet now here creating, inspired by the reflection on my heart,
Surely life does grab my spirit and pull me dawn-ward from the night.
A stranger traveling through this mixed land am I,
Mixed I say because the day holds death-life in one hand,
Flowers bloom, concrete swells, groom weds bride, and the broken die,
Of such I know, but where I go - there death knows not my land!
