Black and White
Morning eyes already dissatisfied with tug-o-war: mind gears' lightly smoking roar v. stuffy slow-waking lean into a Tuesday, or, now: touch of dog's rough underpaw against human big toe, rustle of slowly warming air through dense and grown-up colors of summer's end: Mighty Blue, Never More Green. Even a poly tarp as Thoroughly Brown as it might be — close those eyes into sleep's nostalgia. click open to white moon three black crows in formation, the petticoat rustle of their wings so near it carries away for one length of sky everything except light.