December 19th, 2015

It’s true, we live on the planet of the dying light
Swallows still rush to spiraling shelter
Crickets sing in cities
Sand and sweat mingle with song
Empires of ants grow and are crushed with no notice
The flow and rush of seasons continues
Loons call from the rivers the edge despite the coyotes distance
And each morning, if you stand barefoot in the dew,
Your feet will chill and the earth will warm them
The sun, though she’s fading, gives nutrients
She never relents or slows her mercy.