Leaves touch dawn with their lips,
deep roots, a swelling of earth.
Each morning is an empty room,
This slumberous hour, tired rain
falls like delicate strings
and in between the tight passages,
the rising sparrows.
I see time’s current pulling winter
into spring, with iced puddles
glazed like cheap candy,
the clouds, thick as stones.
I imagine myself with broken wings.
How else can I explain this inability to fly?
I must not forget how fragile, this body,
these thoughts, how time wears out everything.
Dah’s seventh poetry collection is Something Else’s Thoughts (Transcendent Zero Press)
and his poems have been published by editors from the US, UK, Ireland, Canada, Spain, Singapore, Philippines, Poland, Australia, Africa, and India. He is a Pushcart Prize and Best Of The Net nominee and the lead editor of the poetry critique group, The Lounge. Dah lives in Berkeley, California, where he is working on his eighth book of poetry.