caught between the dark clouds
the golden orb spins counter
to one's intuition - illumination
backlights darkness, casting
down pale-yellow light mixed
with the haze already billowing
forth as cumulous pillows too
soft upon which to sleep...
shadows simmer in the sky's pot
like something on a firepit to
which attention must be given,
shades of yellowy greyness
forge upward as if attempting to
change the pitch-black ink spilled
across the heavens, hoping to
cover the remaining faint light,
dancing carelessly toward the
reflection that has beckoned it.
March 30, 2025
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