It is dawn, and with it, across the window,
eagles in formation fly, against a silver sky.
And there I stand, paling, in the light, watching it all, disappearing.
Everyone else is already gone.
You know I did the same thing, says the giant, in the dark.
And I can’t be sure that I say anything at all.
That window was my television, but all right, man, I’ll leave you there, he says,
and then, disappears in, places within his habi – ta- tion.
I find that I am out of doors, back behind, somewhere.
It’s back behind the giant’s house crackling ‘round in the cold moonlight.
There are darker shapes out there than the darkness, itself, moving through the,
darkness and then, becoming one, with it again.
I turn around: It is dawn… again.
I sit and watch the sun come up, over and over and over and over.
Because it is brighter when I have my eyes closed. I close my eyes. I close my eyes.
Dawn has arrived. I can tell by the birds. Dawn has arrived.
