The Flashbulb – Eyes of June
Tacked thistle fog tugs dusk down
with sounds and musk, bristle bound
sack tied with bent and browned
wire.
Dusk in a bag
is
night runs.
Raging silence, calm and ominous.
Fluid. Knowing. Calls to all of us.
Subtle cricket drawl embalming us.
Night is an egg.
if
yolk broke
then morning has awoke. Breaking through the lunar skin
crashing down upon the land. And, I’ve never seen the sun so grand.
image: dirac3000
Seasinks
acraein 
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