Your mother looks at the light
dawning through the trees.
She sits at her kitchen table,
sips coffee black no sugar —
the light is everywhere
evenly at once present
in all the places dim.

Your mother thinks about you
down on the back side
of the mountain
still in its shadow.

She wonders if you have
risen in the dark,
if you sip your coffee
milk no sugar
on a hard chair
at your kitchen table
lit by lamps.