Day

The morning:
Weighted by the nights lonely sleeplessness-
Golden glow of the sun, soaking the leaves, turning them into
Crisp orange, and yellow, as they sink to the earth-
The smooth road beneath the car creating a feeling of gliding-
Passing old country homes, sleeping in mossy hillsides, guarded by rusted fences and tired old dogs covered in beaten coats, with lonely, sleepless eyes-
Seeing weathered crosses spiked in the dirt,
Fading names painted on-
The warmness of morning wrapped around everything and I just breath, smile and sing to myself.

And the night:
Weighted by the morning and its lovely youth-
Pale glow of the moon, glossing my world, turning everything into a dark veil-
The odd texture of my carpet, creating a feeling of dull sand paper
Passing old photographs, sleeping on dusty shelving and wooden tables-
Seeing weathered crosses, broken in my yard-
The bareness of night leaves me breathing, sighing and singing to:
myself.