The Day

the day begins
with a walk
through moonlite
her shadows
casting
tranparency
on my soul

the colours change
the waves
in textured slip-knot
hindering
the stream of race
but not halting
the burgeon
of one flower
in seeded must.

time is not distance
nor distance
insurmountable
but time is tooled,
sharpened
to key the distance
that binds
our bloom

the sun stretches
to the reach
of dawn’s farewell
as she blinds
into hidden
illumination.

now the dance

stripes on black
all tuck and fit
while blue
in smoke
finds hilltops
for shouting,
and
shoulders for resting.

proper says not
in perfect relent
as the hour-glass
tips
to suspension
and the sand
falls fat and lazy.

encores aplenty
into this maze
of twisted schedule
and redress
in undress.

the Sun fills
and flows
to flower the heavens
and spread the day
as miles pass
to the moments tick.

and now,
the evening.
and the loneliness
of a far away
Moon
and silenced
mileage.

The shoulder is barren
and cold.
the cliff, steed -less
and silent.
the whistle hushed,
the pebbles dormant.

only sleep,
sleeps.
while
want drives
the twisted highways
of morning
moons
and the dreams
of tomorrow.

~rick