Words When We Need Them


Before this early moment,
 another, ripe with rain,
  the scent of its own full shape.

  Each day the rooster
  we have never seen
  raises the first greeting
  and darkness which holds us
in its loose pocket all night
  sets us down.

  Now we walk,
waking up rooms,
switching on lights.

Into the breath,
wordless but ripe
   with all possible words,
  messages not yet gathered
   or sent.

   Morning looms,
  more friend than
   the best friend.

  We could still say.