Waiting For the Sun

Bringing the Sun Up

No lights in the neighbors' windows yet.
Venus, my February companion,
floats above Ed’s roof.
The planet is so bright with reflected light
that the cold on my cheeks
feels like heat.

That’s why I stand here.
On a quiet street, waiting.
For the planet's fading into dawn.
For the cardinal's silhouette at the feeder,
For Ed, in his red flannels, collecting the paper.
For the heart’s cares melting,
like Venus,
into morning.





Catherine Wilson

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