The sky, always young, always ancient
Hazy in crisp, clear, cold fog
Brazen in the brightest blue
Until indigo sets flames to red
Or the mist seeps us into night.
Where soft transient sleeping eyes
Free feet from the faculty of ground
Alarm rings, bare feet, cold floor.
Your hair…a sand dune with shrubs on top.
Breakfast doesn’t turn into the most important meal of the day.
The car seat feels like bricks on your ass and you’re reminded of all the repairs that are needed.
Work…a mix of crazy, grumpy, self-involved people.
Clients, customers…a mix of crazy, grumpy, self-involved people.
The drive home…a mix…you get the drift.
And you wonder what happened to the sky?
Repeat first stanza.
|Elan Mudrow on Fluid|
|artrosch on Fluid|
|artrosch on Shelly|
|Arthur Rosch on Shelly|
|Elan Mudrow on Social Distancing|