Empty day

The air dries my lungs And the sun tires my eyes. A yellow haze descends From copper colored sky To mount the sandy rise. Wind calms and let’s Loose a barrage, Conjuring such salacious Visual satisfaction unknown To him who has Never beheld a mirage.

First came dusk, Then the moon and stars Hit their mark and Hung like dancers in the dark: Frozen, celestial, and sublime; Caught and suspended on A timeless stage. The rest are asleep And I am making toast Under the low wattage Hum of a bare lightbulb.

Feedback 1 2