Hope always comes easier
when it’s morning.
When birds are already weaving
their music through the trees.
Easier when dew
glitters on the leaves.
Easier when the world is warming.
In these ripening moments
it’s hard to remember
was it only hours ago
how darkness poured over you
like oil in the ocean.
Nothing seemed possible then.
But here is the bright red neck
of morning, humming through
shadows on emerald wings,
and here you are,
rising to meet it, not
because you want to, but
because something in you rises
and carries you with it into the day.