MORNING MOOD
When she opened the window, no, it wasn’t because
she wanted to pray,
her eyes didn’t shed any tears from the strong light,
only an endless whiteness dived inside her and won
her over. Should she had opened her arms, she’d had stayed
motionless, weightless, floating in air,
an exquisite dome beyond herself. She didn’t wait any longer;
she shook her bed-sheets calmly outside the window
with certainty that her postponed last movement
had occurred and was quite functional.
Mayanaam
vequinox
Manolis 