The profile of a late moon
starves the day
completely void
of the full color spectrum.
The face of the sky
flushed with indigo
reveals only the whites of bright eyes
blinking softly, flirtatiously.
Scorching afternoons
melt warm nights
like candle wax cooling
mid-drip
pooling into
or next to
open reservoirs.
You would never know
of the highway in the distance
laying bare-bellied
on cool grass
where nothing else is present
but the velvet drape
that covers your exposed back
from gentle wind.
© 2012 d.c.p.
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