paint a canvas drawn by the moisture of the bay.
Wispy and delicate, the canvas crests the horizon
and ascends upward toward the apex of the night sky.
The moon. Just shy of full potential,
reflects a soft shower of white light, gelid in tone,
yet mercilessly intriguing by nature.
Chromatic flames blaze in diametrical contrast.
Painted by a luminescent palette composed of lamps,
clustered in bands and strewn across the valley floor
smoldering like embers of a summertime campfire.
Vast brush strokes of photons sweep upward.
Transcending all strata until silenced
by the colossal darkness of outer space.
Temperate. Cool.
The freeway is empty, and enveloped
by a continuous parade of silhouettes.
Relentless are the waves of contour that crash down
on the foreground, either side of the pathway home.
At last. After a long journey,
my head sinks into the pillow.
A glinting beam accompanied by a handful of stars
puncture the canvas of the night sky.
I whisk away again.
No comments:
Post a Comment