In the Morning

I woke before dawn
unplanned, eyes just opened

A tentative birdsong
in the cool, hovering

My first thought
was you

Whatever did you think
that morning?

Alone in the
rising grey light

I have to believe
you laughed

Full-hearted
bellowing laugh

(the kind with tears)

I pictured you laughing
as you danced

On your own
briefly inhabited
grave

-lisa, Easter Sunday, 2012