It’s a bright sky tonight.
Some candle behind a paper wall
Is burning just a bit too bright,
So the words on the page end up
Burned inside his eyes.

A cool breeze blows,
Sending a chill rushing down
His spine.

A deep breath brings in the cool
Flavours of a quiet fall night:
No rush of traffic.
No sirens.

A lone cricket plays, it’s song is
A bell, tolling the midnight hour


This Is An Escape

Tree-topped ridges.

Morning blood boils up over the horizon,

painting the sky in pink and orange.

The lake lays calm, still half trappedĀ in sleep,

its slow breath fogging as it greets the morning air.

This is not the world.

This is a transition.

A dream:

Existing in vivid colour and detail,

where an hour exists inside of a second,

This is an escape.