Tilted Planet Press

Pale light precedes the dawn’s reveal,
not strong enough to light the sky.
Faint glow gives winter air a feel,
from numbing depth to aching high.

This year will be our hottest ever.
We could stop it.  We know how.
We burn the past to burn forever,
like incense for the death of now.

Against the fate of entropy
we scoff at universal law.
We build a worldwide factory
and feed our world into the maw.

Lake and shore and rising orb.
Above the shoreline rays of light
paint trees with shine they can’t absorb.
Dark lake sloughs off the black of night.

In this expectant moment, poised,
I crave the colors born of light.
Waves of flashing streaks aroused,
perform the ritual birth of sight.