sunrise 9/21/22

i love

the sunset, its insinuation, its glamorous languor;

twilight takes its time, picking and choosing its colors,

the red-golds, the purple-pinks,

painting its own picture,

telling a sleeping story.

it seeps through windows, gently.

sunrise is sudden. it has definition,

it is short-lived.

sunrise parades itself, it describes things, it chronicles things:

it changes so quickly --

the procession of clouds over the glimpse of water,

and i try to document it, to translate,

to figure out what it is trying to say,

even though i know it is nothing.

i crouch half-naked on a balcony, rain dripping on my shirt,

one arm hugging wet wood, the other clutching my phone,

desperate to document,

desperate to describe.

i make up stories about the clouds,

find camels in the cumulus, a procession towards the day.

i love

the in-between, the juxtapositions,

the hours where things don't make sense, and make sense.

i love

sitting cross-legged, maybe, on wet wood, half-naked,

trying to make things make sense.