The sun comes before I wake and leaves too soon before I sleep and though I implore it to stay (I say, "please stay, please stay, don't leave me") it goes without a word, without a wink. Not a nod. Nothing.

Then the air cools with the approaching evening, I breathe it.

There was a time when I favored the moon but that has long since passed. It went out with my singing. Night singing beneath stars. Singing out the blues and grays, cast in the jaundice of streetlamps.