Morning In Tropicos Poem by Adora Williams

Morning tropical dandelions that couldn't quiesce for the night
And cherry seeds carried by bats that found my gloom welcoming

I've been writing my sorrow, spreading my tragedy
Because I feel like my connection with the orbs is weakening
But nothing like the memories of a bucolic night full of meaning
That I was too cultured to be part of
On another morning from this hazy hazy world
To remember me that even the wildlife matches your state of mind

I'm scripting the flowers I'll never grow, looking at codes I'll never know
Not fully
Just an idea, the overall concept
And a thought
Never deep enough
To read through itself

That later on I'll forget. I'll let the wound clatter kill it mercilessly
And I'm not even going to remember

Until it whispers in my ear again the next time I try to understand
Where the realm of dreams dwells — where we go while our body sleeps — and my mind never does

It mornings, tropically. The swallow whines on a prompt —
I promptly silent my whine when the light forces itself upon me —
It is just me. It is mine.
Fine.