dawn.
not exactly the almighty passport to a better day
the early morning sun gleams on the scissors sitting
by her bedside table
their worn blue handles reflecting the years of steady use.
the silence settles as she gazes
upon fresh raspberries
and a collection of wildflowers in a mason jar.
no note is needed
her minds blank canvas paints his image
faster than a speeding bullet
or the bullet trains.
she looks out the window
her eyes tracing the silhouette
of a hawk darting in a frenzy at its next meal
and the distant smoke of an old woman
reading a book as ashes fall onto the paper.
she knows there is a cacophonous roar
erupting outside her 14th story window
feel the vibrations of the anxious cars below
but from city to thickett there is only
silence.
