I wake to remember
my sunroof is open.
I wake to leave words on the path.

I wake like a gardener
illiterate in Nature,
who nonetheless prays for the math.

The Solemn shows Wicked
the chess pieces burning.
a light that gives fuel is its task.

I wake just to tell you
my sunroof is open.
My words, as the rain's, not to last.