The sky glows
A dull yellow
Like a far
Off lamp in
A distant home
At the end
Of a wooded
Lane welcoming me
Darkened trees hang
Like spooky goblins
As the cars
Tires kick up
Dusty ghosts that
Disappear among junipers
Dawns single bonfire
Slowly emerges golden
Like a pocket
Watch drawn from
The woolen clouds
And distant bungalow
Windows wink with
Brief lamp light
As neighbors move
About in them
This is morning
Take but me
Take my hands
Take my eyes
Take my nose
Take my cheek
Take my lips
And above all
Take my breath
Leave me nothing
More than you
Like tented nights
Telling scary stories
Flashlight under chin
This morning’s sun
Uplights the clouds
Turning them the
Softest soft downy
And fluffy pink
Jagged gray cliffs
Bully the horizon
Frightening the willows
Into a curtsy
Plane tale lines
Scratch high above
Appearing and disappearing
Like invisible ink
Or whispered passwords
Two lone birds
Sing sweet harmonies
As the steamy
Furries rise above
My coffee cup
Streaks of crimson
Edged in twilight
Hover like long
Quiet javelins above
Dusty afterthought clouds
Shadow fresh skies
A far-off burning
Begins to glow
Above the treeline
As jagged canopies
Like reaching fingers
Tickle the dawn
Making it blush
Red braking cateyes
Turn white in
The turn about
Startled by mistake
It is quiet
Here like cemeteries
Except for the
Lone peeping of
One lonely grouse
Morning now here
There’s that oh
So precious moment
When I hear
Something I remember
And sitting there
Anywhere really there
You are with
Me and out
They come these
Tears welling up
And cascading down
My cheeks smiling
Through them excusing
Myself conscious to
Others sipping my
Espresso and recalling
Just the many
Many simple things
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 