A sparrow flew into my backyard
Watching the growing light in shards
It tittered in the tree
Watching even me
Myself and the cold on guard
The burgeoning light erupted
And the nighttime corrupted
By the light itself
And the sun on its vibrant shelf
The blackness disrupted
I gathered a hat and gloves, went outside
Stood in the frosty grass wide-eyed
As the cold touched my skin and bones
My soul was purified like white stones
Only my spirit as an autumnal guide
Never had I seen such wondrous morn
To be alive and reborn
