Silas Thorne's Journal

I woke up this morning
to the sleep-before words
of the Prince of the Apple Towns.
Awakening in the darkness of the day
to little birdsong in the world outside,
but inside golden firstlight fell upon me
humming with peace and calm,
like winter's snowfall to the mind of crows.

There, through the crack in the curtain
the wet-hewed colours of dewgrass met morning,
reminding me of long lost hills
that passed from your tongue to my eyes, in sleep,
awakening dreams to me, in waking
I thought could darn my coat of day...
but those I could not thread, before they passed.

© Silas Thorne 7/4/09