That deluge of haze
just before sundown.
Spring shakes Winter’s hand
goodbye.
Now the day has truly gone.
Street lamps glow
a sodium pink
When blue milk pacifies,
the copper moon sliding up a sleeve of glass,
her luminous lake
drowning the city,
a black felt hat against
heaven’s empty dome.
An indigo deer slips back
through the shadow of night-green cedar.
This was originally published in Fall 2017 edition of The Helix.
