From Seven to Ten

Between sunrise
and setting,
I feel myself begging
for a reprieve from
the heat, the sweating.

From seven to ten,
it’s a pleasure,
warm breeze, leisure,
and the moisture…
slight hint on forehead.

Eleven to three, is when
the sun bakes me,
and I lay as still
as I can. But, damn,
this time is alive
with the movement
of life, and others are
simply happy to be
living their lives.

But the air is so cool inside.

After four, Old Sun tires
of cooking his worshipers
with his distant fires,
and thinks about the evening’s

Luna waits to step
into the booth for her turn,
less painful, but twilight
yearns for the end of things.

All movement ceases.

Once she rises,
our day, the span
of our lives, we
consider the end of times
all while basking in
the glow

of Luna smiling.

©️ CG Tenpenny, 2018.

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