The sunrises
Are my favorite part
Of an otherwise
Soul-deadening and nerve-numbing
Job.
The stars are so clear
In their selenium black-blue when
The young horizon
Begins to burnish and braze to
Brass, copper, orange.
Hours before the sun ever
Peeks above and
Blazes furiously, avenging
The cold and blindness of
Night, the sky melts and
Oozes into color, still full of stars,
Still overseen by the Moon,
And my favorite is the hour
When the bright faces of
Luna and Sol share the sky
Like good siblings born of the same
Light.
Hoarfrost shimmers in winter
And dances in our headlights
Pulling over the crunching
White gravel.
I shiver leaving the truck
For the cold factory
And I breathe deep the morning air
Before I plunge into
Work.
