Suburban Dawn

Somewhere beyond the lawns

and silent houses, the roads as empty 

as if they no longer exist,

a wildness of trees 

has been waiting for this—

the orange-tipped curtain 

lifting over the dark edge 

of the horizon.

The trees float in slope 

and hollow, come together 

in the negative spaces of night sky 

to join the communion 

of all living things.

Our memories are like buds

before the flowering,

which will be another form of prayer 

as what’s tightly furled

finally opens to the light.