Modern Yin Yang

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.

 

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