Will The World Love The Night?
Light in the early evening
August sky awes me. Sunset
closes; streaky luminous clouds,
some dense, deep gray, others
radiant, gauzy white, shift and
travel across brilliant blue, longing
for the sun to descend and
relinquish its province on this half
of earth. With no animosity, the full
pale moon hovers, above the horizon,
Illuminating darkening sky in light
resplendent. I am tempted to disavow
the sun for ever changing night, with
its muted hues, dusky clouds, shadows,
and abstractions. Yet the moon, in all
its phases needs no ego, for it is but
a mirror, extending the jealous sun's
resolute dominion over our universe.
I am weary.
Days add up, years rush by.
Recollections ride a comet's tail
miles long, scattering forgotten
souvenirs into deep space.
My galaxy, as far away as it is
under my nose.
I travel a stunted elliptical orbit,
circling events and objects in
Births, deaths, and any flotsam
in-between define my Milky Way,
ever evolving in an assuredly
What comes around, goes around.
Houston, we have a problem!
** 1st Honorable Mention, South
Florida Chapter of the National Writers Association, 2003
On certain days in early
March I gaze out my window
and behold the southern sky
glimmer in the late sunset.
Pink-hued clouds lit from below
scatter across pale sky. Light is
different here in South Florida
near winter's end. Flat and even,
it settles around trees, houses,
and bodies with a warm tint,
casting no shadows. As the sun
slides under the horizon, glow fades,
light dulls to dusk, shadows form
and deepen, clouds melt away.
A glorious half-hour before nightfall.
Look west, look up.
**3rd Honorable Mention, Cat.
11, 2004 FSPA Annual Contest