by Mary McCarthy (Notes) on Sunday, July 31, 2011 at 1:48am
I wake in early morning, almost before the roosters
The rain has not yet arrived fully
Still a light and thoughtful spray
A few stars still out, a crescent moon
Tossed with morning clouds.
Even the frogs are asleep
A yard light on guard
The wind breaths through the bamboo.
The air’s touch light
The touch of a lover just returned, tentative,
Gentle.