Seed in the summer

I woke in the morning

But the morning didn’t wake in me.

I see the sun shining

But it’s not shining for me.

I feel the refreshing air

Filling the space around

But my lungs now rather smoke cigarettes

I can hear a poem

Knocking on my brain’s door

I invite it to come

Desiring its words, blessed by pleasure

But they only have the manure of daily life

Offered to me as necessary and irrefutable food

And I need to get used to it

       -  to sprout cold and lonely

As a buried seed in the summer.