Goodnight Sun

Out there in the bleeding orange

Light stands like soldiers in the coming war

Holding hands as the blade passes between them

Little slivers of pain and progress

Slicing through the agony of meadowlarks

Remember the days when there was dark in the nighttime?

Black and void and pure because of it

The lumens keep marching

Cutting along the highways and the homeless

The little hands creeping up the mountainside skirt

Dirty fingernails scratching sagebrush thighs

The spires are littered with electric trees

All the wannabe kings and queens walking hard up the foothills

Searching for their moneyed homes, their skyline view

The deer retreat, or make new homes under bird feeders

The sun is tired

Tomorrow there will be no darkness to let it sleep