To sleep in the coolness of snug unawareness.

The Morning News https://ift.tt/2Uor3Ib

A poem for your Tuesday, from "truth" by Gwendolyn Brooks.

And if sun comes
How shall we greet him?
Shall we not dread him,
Shall we not fear him
After so lengthy a
Session with shade?

Though we have wept for him,
Though we have prayed
All through the night-years—
What if we wake one shimmering morning to
Hear the fierce hammering
Of his firm knuckles
Hard on the door?

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