by Brendan Strong
The sun is climbing down there
One last, blinding cry, the light’s goodbye,
Dazzling the eye from the corner of
A powdered covered sky.
A light blue turns pink, an orangey red,
Tucked under clouds hanging over my head.
I cannot sleep in such daynight.
Thinking and turning
The mind is churning
Close the eyes, but not the mind.
To transend or transgress everything
It is. This sky.
Baby blues and pinks, soft colors
Translucent, transparent, transgressing, transcending,
Everything is moving, from here to then
– never the right time, nor the place –
Tucked under a sky
Turning soon to night that will
Break through to day.