The Sun's Song

Monarch wings and oak leaves float on a stormy eveing sky,
while the stars begin to open their sun-blinded eyes to
the ghostly moon.

The sun glows gently on the clouds, hesitantly saying goodbye until morning.
He parts from the sky, leaving earth with a blood-red kiss.
She answers with a sigh, her heart breaking,
while the smell of sage, pine and the dusty ground ride
on her last breath.

The crickets in the fields begin a heartbeat
and the hollow grasses dance to it,
those soft, whispering skeletons.

The rattle of their empty bodies
summon the night, and twilight descends like a powerful spell.
The sun's song begins:

"Goodnight, goodnight
my love,
Goodnight.

Let the bluebells and forget-me-nots
rock you to sleep, my love
rock you to sleep.

Let the bluebells and forget-me-nots
rock you to sleep,
my love.

And in the morning, in the morning,
I'll be here.

Do not cry and do not fear,
and in the morning
I'll be here, I'll be here."

So she let the bluebells and forget-me-nots
rock her to sleep, rock her to sleep
and in the morning, the sun was there.
Just as he promised.

West College Street

Soft footsteps pad through the kitchen and onto the porch.
Music drifts up from the 2nd floor and a guitar sizzles into the senses, fusing with neurons, becoming a part of the soul who listens.
The breeze comes cleansing and the hum from College Street is just a reach away.
Voices bubble all around, kicked into a lazy frenzy by the summer heat.
A bike crunches gravel outsde the window and a hint of cigarette smoke mingles with the hot air.

I feel like dancing, like becoming a part of the world outside.
I feel like adding my own unique rhythm, making music with those around me.

Leaves flutter softly like butterfly wings and a tangerine sky adds to the sultry atmosphere.
The mountains bring their spicy scent; hinting at places not yet found. Wild.
A child's cry pierces the thick evening and a parent's exhausted sigh soon follows.
Warm water laced with bubble bath is running somewhere and fresh, cool sheets are turned back.
With the steady beat of a drum thumped out from the floor below the day signals its end.
A bird chirps near by and voices fade as West College becomes deserted.
The sky fades from orange to peach to pink and the first star appears in the east.
It shimmers with delight, as it knows of the night's coming adventures.
Bike rides down dark streets, cold air racing against the face and loud music seeping from the garage of a second home.
The night is alive with energy.