Streetlights auburn bright and flashing car lights
like flickering memory dashing down
North Lookout while charcoal sky, fading night’s
overseer, loosens its soft-veiled gown,
leaning to silhouette wide autumn oaks
still clinging to their rippling leaves. Show us
slight glow of morning mist—ghost priest who soaks
all earth with moist grace. Gentle breeze, blow us
some sacred kiss, some secret message found
only in semi-sleep, this space we sense
as we gaze through open window at ground
fertile with haze and hope, our recompense
for waking from spirit’s dream. Distant call
of a lone mockingbird seems to bless all.
Roger Armbrust
November 22, 2011
