The rainy season drips to an end,
replaced now by the bright dry days.
The sun’s warmth is an old friend
returning from its long hibernation.
Everything raises its head to look around
and discover again where it had left off.
The earth is captivated by its own fragrance —
is it love, or just a crush, a youthful infatuation?
If we had forgotten how many different insects
were living around here, now we are reminded.
Insistent light pushes against the windows,
we open them up to let it rush in breathlessly.
It is eager to deliver a message, an important one
which it has been carrying for months it seems.
How should we understand it now —
literally or figuratively?
Impatiently, it waves off that part of the mind
which only comprehends plus and minus.
At some point we became slaves to mere reason
and lost the thread connecting us to wonder.
The light wants us to remember ourselves,
the way we were when freedom was not an ideal.
We had become entranced, huddled around devices
that displayed their artificial light — so seductive!
Like denizens of the underworld, our dark shapes
slunk from room to room, but always hungry.
We poured out our thoughts in dark ink on black paper,
argued between ourselves in unintelligible languages.
But now the lovely song birds were gathering to revel
in the fresh new light, we could hear them calling.
The beautiful birds were calling. The light was calling.
The forgotten part of ourselves arrived to call us out.
Soon there were thousands of us, each a mirror
perfectly reflecting the dawning light to the other.
We realized we didn’t have the old names anymore.
Something about that made us smile and exhale.