On a cold spring morning

[billy]

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On a cold spring
                Morning, caught
                In all our waking
Hours, the sun rises
                Out of the deep pines
It is our friend, see
Him read the lay
Of the promised land
The networks of roads and people-
See him shout down the
Close brick houses
Drunk as Dionysus as summer turns-
Or a wildcat weeping as we sing dirges
A pregnant mother’s laugh at celebration songs
He is our friend, happy as can be
Washing the blood from the night,
That same dawn- that same dawn what breaks
Over and over.