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the mish-mash keeps her awake for hours / unseemly dreams, misspent allocations / they haunt her slumber, deride her restfulness // hawk-spirits gliding over harvest wheat / playful souls entwined in a dance of love / yet, she yearns to return to more concrete memories / her strength upholds her // trust sustains her desire / she believes she will thrive, despite the odds / despite all those who seek to devour the only light / she’s ever known

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if i could be any color

i’d choose a shade from either end

of the day’s curtain.

those wake-up hues of dawn

the soothing, sometimes fiery

purples, reds, and golds @ dusk.

i’d be infused with the promise

of a new day & the contentment

of twenty-four hours well-lived.