Like a giant followspot fired up
& trained on the prostrate actor
A bedside lamp suddenly lit
by the one charged with awakening
The sun itself pulls me from sleep in the cradle of the train.
After a split-second of indignant 'whaaa-?'
The most beautiful truth is realized: I have been roused by nothing less than the rising sun itself.
I can drift back into slumber, let it illuminate the eyelids
Imagine a bed of foraged things
& light falling across the mouth of the cave.