Driving, headed east, and the fog was thick.
The shoulder was heavy with forest silhouettes.
Shadows of black branches stretching skyward.
Looming over the slick early morning road.
Driving into sunrise is a high price to pay
For running fifteen minutes behind daybreak.
But the strength of the sun was dissolved by mist, and
It shined the color of mustard, but gentler and less acrid.
Light painted with water behind tree-brushes.
And its gold washed over me like sunset.
I felt the day ending, while sipping my still-hot coffee.
Time ran together and I was disordered.
When sunrise looks like sunset, budding like falling,
Morning like night, calling like saying goodbye,
I am all exploded inward, yelling sweet things,
And whispering curse words like vespers.