Identified

the sun slowly finds its way
above the field
on this late-winter morning

there is that opposite
when darkness drifts away

hear it in the song
the first birds start to listen
for its silence
before the (inevitable) call

brume rises above the lake
surrounding the island in thought

and careful names
take off into the sky;
trial tastes
for something
they have never seen

a nervous shivering ground
fed by the rumble deep below the surface
predicts that maybe today …. this hour?
if not, this week … this month, surely!
it will show the face belonging

eagerly waiting
for unavoidable change
these are the waves
sinuating through the veil
on not just any turf,

but ours


..