In The Hidden Garden

An empty cigarette box and several orange peels
lay littered across the sun-faded bricks,
decorating the ground.
      It was quiet enough in this space.
There was no darkness here.

     Yes, the trees cast bluish shadows
across my feet.
     Yes, the sunlight crept in too slowly
to throw off of my seat, the gloom
of early morning.
     Too slow for my taste.

     But the pink and yellow hibiscus flowers
still smiled up at the new dawn
and I was at peace.

The day had exorcised the blackness
that had filled my room the night before,
thick as molasses and formidable as it was.