They awaken and glare at the ceiling,
Which is veiled in stripes of light from the curtained windows
And the chatter of dark-eyed juncos
Trilling and pecking at the frost-painted grass outside.
Exhausted, they climb out of their sunken mattress
And return to the realm of the living, unwillingly,
They sift through life’s seabed, looking for self-worth,
A gentle mind, and a soul’s bounty of happiness.