bedtime story

 

bedtime story

 

the softness of summer light

late afternoon early evening

the way it adheres to solid surfaces

the way it emanates from leaf and tree

the way it washes across the grass

the way it gathers in the air

the way it breathes like music

and if you listen

the way it tells your story

using only the present tense

gilding the moment …

 

then the way twilight turns to dusk

turns to darkness incomplete

turns to starlight distance crossed

 

and so to sleep

Patience

Patience

Sundays seem to come more often now:

The week a shuffled deck -

Cut the pack and what do you get?

Another lonely day, after a week

Of lonely days, yet somehow

Longer, as if more silence had been

Wedged into the gaps to stop the leak

Of violence.

 

Sundays - the turning of the cards

And between -

And the slow wait in sufferance

For Monday’s glib indifference.