When I was born
a wraith flew in the window
and sucked out my breath.
As I turned from ash to black
Morning scratches at the glass.
and the screen glares back white.
Boiling water recalls the heat of thoughts,
a small bird lands on a branch of sunrise.
She mixes words
like a wizard whips out a spell,
better yet, like a chef
whose batter boasts
Morning snowflakes clot the air,
rest in the nook of an old fedora.
The shop doors are still locked.
A red sweater.Blue eyes glance
I see you inside your eyes
and you've run away.
I see you in a sunset fading