Cherrychoke

I sit and stare at the pink sky that opens before me.
Blue streaks and whites of clouds
reminds me of the stars behind
and I come to think about the space stretching
The space beyond everything

The water is silent
The air scent-free
The sky is shameless in it’s tears
but I’m forgiven
every little bit of misunderstanding
from my part.

There are lines of silvery gray
there are rows of black
after-images burning my
sight long after the
light is gone
The wind acts out drama
and I can hear windows
and doors rattling
they want to stay open but
someone would like them better closed.

I get up and hope I have the sparekeys with me
this time.