A Simple Awakening Poem by Morgan Michaels

Birdsong. From no lone singer but multitudes-
Breaching the shutters, the curtain's hem
Choristers of indeterminate hue, because viewless-
Canzone spilling over the sill,
A tree branched with pure gold, doubtless, their oratory,
Casting a silver shadow.

Another perfect day. Like someone still with air aplenty
Launched, flutter-kicking, from the floors of sleep
Through quivering blue toward a shimmering scrim
He cannot see past, I glide-
The distance not so great, no need to hurry.
Golden-that is the morning

I must enter, eventually, reluctantly.
Sleep was nice and full of visitor fishes, who
Vanish when you try to feed or obligate them in any way
But this is, after all, the novel day
Full of choices-chances to improve the past and
Tool the future.

You, who from above observe my passage
Through fathoms and smile elegantly when
My lives, tired of sighing, burst exhausted through the top,
Issuing invitations to breathe Your empyrean,
Look, I am more than for it-
Look, I am awake.