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EVENING

(Wednesday, October 25, 1995, 12:30 a.m.)

She sighs at the parted shutter to the stars;

To the outer black, yawning, echoing.

Why screaming moods are soothed, I don't know;

Streaming moods through the trees by the moon--

Moon makes air of silver, face of ghostly white.

Clarity of mood is an unknown existance to her,

Accustomed to changes of the greatest degree;

She keeps them jailed inside, no reprieve,

Unless, alone, she parts a blind to gaze at black above.

Sheltering coffee between her fingers, she, smiling, sips.

For the present mood is pleasant; one of freedom,

Future, wide and unknown as fabric of space itself.

Warm bite of coffee slides through her body;

Comfort of caffeine that tingles to the limbs

And so fills one with days in shining dreams,

Radient moods, lighthearted joy of thoughts.

Dares not to ponder on the truth that haunts, she

Instead props heavy eyes open,

Briefly dreams of forested gazes, entrancing grey seas.

The curtains fade, she sees through the sky.

Rising and flying, a laugh escapes the prison;

A laugh of gleaming white, iridescent, cold;

Empty and joyous, hair a sea of umber undulation,

Eyes a shining copy of her reality; O lofty sun!

Leave her alone.  Hatred scathing, smarting gold

Seeks sooth from night and waters with mist overhanging,

Sinking down to rolling foam, her mouth is filled

With words of alarming truth, makes them tremble and shudder.

Arms uplifted, spirit uplifted, air of salt sucked in;

With breezes drifting, sea droplets sifting,

Returning to now, mood shifting, resting knee on chin.