Strange to wake

with an edge still sharp

taste morning ripe

another beginning

body soft

each ache a weight

whisper beyond groan

this scary place

so big so certain

this number

resting like feathers

unquiet in hand.

mountains still rise

rivers still flow

soft-edged weathering

and rain still falls

a little less certain

a little more and less free

just years planting

kisses on cheek of bone