april: twinlight
on late morning two unfinished
thoughts steal away, run
drowsyly barefoot across the meadow
disappear laughing behind the woodpile
only the wet grass stays behind -
down at the edge of the brook
yesterday's empty swing yawns
where we children scratched the sky
and the morning light warms
the eyelids like a wooden wall
behind the house -
once
when waking up
to be unseparated
before opening the eyes
not knowing about time
to be in the state in which a thought
at the same time is embodiment
the body thought -
to be twins dancing in the morning
over the blade of light.
