Sun slants down, hot and hard, although
the faint breeze is still cool. Nothing

of night is left in this bright day —
the sun’s angle promises more

heat; the earth itself seems to slant
to match the sun and I, I tilt

my head sideways to find balance.
There is a gasping in the light

as if breath itself is lacking,
the light itself cracked and misplaced.

Where is everyone? Streets empty,
sidewalks carry only a rare

and distant stranger, who, like me,
navigates this erratic air.

Sun slants down, at a hard angle,
distorting what it strikes. So still.

The dim light inside the building
whispers this a lie, the air

and light that seem benign cannot
be trusted, will beat us all down.

Originally drafted/written June 1, 2010


2 responses to “Sunslant

  1. Very nice piece to read on a spring morning. Reminds me of many mornings growing up by the lake. The quiet in early morning can be deafening and the time alone quite special.

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