Wednesday, September 8, 2010

"Times" by Catherine A.G. Bayly

The days have turned sunny and cold, shocking the skin as it shimmies and shakes out the door.

The evening is still, and barren. Dry with eyes gone for months without crying.
Purple, of what looks like moisture, begins the settle around tree bases, and mossy places where only invisible things make their homes.

The nights have been ebony, darkness wrapping, caressing and gently
waving each leaf on the evergreens.

And, by morning, dark and darker compete frantically for night's last hurrah. Amidst their battle, as she does each morning, light flickers and licks through empty spaces. She meets my eyes with her shocking fluorescence, and burns me with her new bits of promise.

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