Thursday, May 22, 2008

the witching hour ends before my very eyes.

the stone of the steeple
is brighter somehow at dusk
when I can barely see the sun;
just the colors it leaves behind
across a darkening blue
and the trees
they are suddenly full
disoriented leaves
one way and the next
and the backdrop from this 4th floor window
seems like a canvas-
and when I take a moment to look up
it all just catches-
but it's not white,
somehow more brilliant
as the clock moves closer and closer to nine
and the sun has passed
and its message
is no longer
it sounds like a storm is coming?

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