HOSPITAL DAWN

A long despairing wakeful night.

A wall of windows, black.

Then, the slightest lightening, the tall, bare trees

revealed. The eastern sky becomes pink, grey, blue,

bleak. Three great birds fly across, as one.

Night cannot resist the turning Earth,

the push of day. Now, an orange fire in the trees.

The rising sun becomes a flame, a sword,

burning in the day, fierce in my eyes, a lease renewed.

Life.

                                                Max Frost

                                                4 May 2004