The Eventual Sky
Morning is melting through the black, like a ghost moving into the foreground. From glossy jet to smoke. Bare branches form a dark lace horizon, invisible before. Showing with decreasing subtlety, now. The paleness, rising, uncloaks the sounds of birds. One…then two, fading in. Singing these spectral moments up, toward rest — and an eventually sunlit sky.
November 16th, 2005 at 3:20 PM
you rock, oompa loompa
November 16th, 2005 at 3:32 PM
Thanks Aymster!