Dawns that cannot be seen
Must be conjured by the senses.
When direful dreams take flight
To the snoring of guards,
To the stench of urine mixed
With sweat and kerosene.

And then, from beyond,
A bustling beckons,
A rustling echoes,
A twittering and chirping.
The birds in the pine tree
Proclaim the coming day.

(1946)