under the watchman’s moon
a Spring sunset lingers
wrapped in the chill of an immortal autumn
Tag Archives: Moon
Day 115, 2023
the dirty river runs its course
under crisp slice of moon:
my pipe bowl glows, a new sun
for a universe to be born
and then return to ash
Ghazal no. 2
No. 2
Today, Sunday morning when downtown first comes into view.
The air crisp and cool and the sun in nearly awake.
Every drive changes with the light, its dwindling, its absence.
Even on a swing shift schedule I only ever see the streetlights nearly awake.
Tall buildings pepper the skyline, a planned garden of driftwood.
In the late afternoon, downtown workers lumber, jaywalk, and scattered, barely awake.
I always look forward to the sunset – the river, the day’s close,
feeling left behind by the hum and thrum world
less interested in being awake.
The shadows at midnight play against the cityscape, uncovering spirits hid during daylight
lumbering under the same moon watching me, asking why I bother to stay awake.