Morning returns,
slowly,
wildly opening,
as if the old window
of an abandoned house.
Morning always returns,
even if
you aren’t ready,
even if
you try not
to show up.
Morning
is the window
to the soul.
Eyes
are just how we get there,
and ears?
Ears are how we learn.
Just listen.
Birds and bugs
have already
figured it out.
Poem by Kristin Yates
Kristin Yates is from the wilderness trail of Lewisville, NC. Her poetry has previously appeared in Salem College’s Incunabula, The New Verse News, and Tiny Seed. Her work can be found at: https://www.instagram.com/beautefantasy/