In a sky that signs it’s name

In a sky that signs it’s name
on every field, every leaf,
the clouds bloom waxy flowers
with their backs to the sunset.

Let me not forget the bright
and dusty sky, the layers of trees
so close to falling
off the edge of the earth.

So close we are to running
through birdsong and tree trunks
we forget the color of pavement,
the mask of cars and streetlights.

At night it is dark,
close and quiet
enough for a mouthful
of pinhole stars,

calm enough to meld a world
of dirt and angles with dreams,
and far enough from home
we forget we had another.

eclipse, perhaps

The sunset was so golden
it sent its molten metals
sheathing all the windows
and bouncing off of walls

The dying sun was reaching
I saw it melting through the trees
like an alien invader beam
it welded mush from leaves

When burning with hush’d farewells
it cried inside my eyes
and when it felt it drained itself
it kicked me to the skies

On final ends and darkness
the clouds were even jealous
they put on their best color
and stretched away from us

But wilder things were wished on
than the returning sun that night
and the early morning fighter crowd
got no glimpse of light