April Morning

by John Grey

At dawn,

the opposite of dark is green,

or streaks of yellow,

or golden sap on oak trunks.

The woods tremble

as sleep reverts to thirst,

roots waken their surrounds,

bark swells in anticipation.

All is soon moist,

soon festive,

now that the soil

is imbued with April.

Life picks up

from where it left off.

First one to the light

is a treetop.