On account of darkness,

The ball game on the unlit field;
the interminable argument.
The migration of hummingbirds;
the crescent moon, incrementally.


The hope for something better;
the search for survivors.

The ovulation of hens.
The play of long-ago children.

The open throats of morning glories;
the songs of wrens, of larks, of cardinals.
Of robins, finally.

The tenuous rule of law.

The slumber of gerbils and raccoons,
of woodcocks and hermit crabs.

Who we were;
our certainty.

Your name.



One comment

  1. seems darker
    than i remember,
    myself 😦


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: