Memories of a man I once shared my life with

I have been widowed now for (unbelievingly) nearly eight years. My husband was a prolific writer (unpublished) and I would like to share some of his thoughts;

one of three poems, written in 1973

Seven a.m.

Birds. Air free,
the sun tuning up.
Shadows
of trees, bushes, small stones
warmed, still life
stretching. A nightdressed
child of three wakes,
bare, damp feet,
over the grass; listens
smells, touches this drawing
morning. Somewhere
a tyrant closes his eyes.