Awaken, my love.

For the trees
against the sky
seem to free
my tired eyes.

Darken, my love.

For the black
contrasts the light
like the latch
to the high-flying kite.

Hasten, my love.

For I only have so much time
before the curtains fall so fast.
You've been more than kind
on the lake on which you cast
those little,
lethal
stones.