on waking
the quiet of a glowing room
is as an igloo after heavy snow:
cut off from civilization
cozy in a word
and in a world soft
expanding in sunbeams
as a lazy gas under no pressure
as a pinhole camera
aligned to a single ray
which sees all as it is:
small
enfolded with warm outsized hopes
so here I hold your missive
and find it of the same stuff
as morning sunbeams
and the dreams of blankets