Sunrise Madrid skyline — photograph by author

At some point,
hopefully before it’s too late,
(though the hour is way dark early
and dawn will catch some far from any cover)
there will be an awakening.

As in a dream,
the world shifts
and from just out of sense and sight
you hear your name called,
feel like a caress, something,
deeper than memory stirring.
Then, perhaps, a shaking like a tremble, like a shudder,
the wind on the leading edge of a frontal boundary
sweeping through,
peeling back the plastic shreds of our collective cling-on nightmare.

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