It was dark, before sunrise–
or after sunset.
the days are so short now.
The bread man was squeaking,
but he had nothing to sell.
He just wanted the attention.
And
In the dim, saturated air
I mistook you for a tree
old and gnarled.
I leaned against you think frame
and wept,
or laughed
I can’t remember which.
Now that the sun has risen
the power has come back on
I am more than a little embarrassed.