Aubade

Already it is dark at five in the morning,
sky the dull color of charcoal,
Eos dragging her heels.

Pandora misses waking to summer
and the rowdy birds.
Now she must wait for the sun to break.

Maybe she has lingered here too long,
anchored by a desire to fix this world
or just erase the past.

It might be time to let the wind,
carry her words away,
to let go of history

and her hands, eyes, and heart,
to leave this body’s gravity
and become light.