Morning

This is as cold as cold can be
This month when even the air
Shivers with hope and despair
For the reclining god to stir
From his death-like slumber.
We left our dreams hanging in the night
Teeth chattering in the mist
When it would have been best
To be at home, snug under the rug
Sleeping through yet another dawn
Not knowing what has gone ---
Enough of this waking and sleeping
When waking is more sleeping ---
This time we have risen before the sun
To wake the god with songs, the way
We put him to bed with the lullaby
Tell us what will wake us, to see
The world without the lies others weave
To see it for what it is, not to believe.