I look out
Through big windows
Into a four a.m. sky,

Trash is kicked up in the wind
And floats down like flailing butterflies.
Monarchs, I think.

Though the trip, not as long
Is as beautiful.
Against the night sky,

Bruised by the Sun
All black and blue
The moon

Heals the wounds
The day has made
The Night cradles us

In her arms
With stories of
Bears

Men with hooves
And Long-handled ladles
We peacefully slumber

And are put to bed
Only to be struck
By the Sun once more.

You can pull at the covers all you want
But we all have to
Have to stand up

Take our solar beating
And wait for the eve
Where we can be,

Stand, live and breathe without reprehension
Like the sky,
I'm always there
But I only shine at night.