It was always a golden city, even before I learned exactly what Black and Gold meant and why the sports fans were as crazed as in Boston. It was a golden city because each time I would be bleary eyed and exhausted, the sunlight would illuminate the staggered and defiant skyline for a second sunrise,…
Cracked (But Not Shattered)
I lean my head back and open the parts of my soul that I can access and look up. Pale blue sky, but not the pale blue of sunrise. It's pale because the humidity has washed out the color from above; the clouds bleed their fleece into the atmosphere. Time for the sun to set.…
Time's Thievish Progress 