Clouds hang
like soft,
purple pieces of construction paper
tacked loosely to the ever-ripening horizon.
Hills squat low
slumbering, maybe folded in prayer
gold morning
cresting across their stooped, velvet backs
dark rolling foreheads pressed close to the earth
leftover twilight shadows
clinging to their eyelids.

As I sit here,
absently munching on oatmeal
I notice how quickly night disappears
how brightness spreads across the sleepy sky
like some bacterial firework
spreading
engulfing everything with light.
The further the sun inches his way up these black,
tree-soaked hills,
the faster the earth turns her cool,
pocked face to meet him.

I realize the speed of my body through
space and
time, how quickly I am
spinning
on a giant, unfathomable axis.
My movements so huge,
so vast and broad
I cannot feel them.

I can only
sometimes see
in the the quick, melting light and dark
how fast time is
how soon the blue,
mournful moon fades into the gray morning
poignant song choked by the turning of spheres.