Two Poems Before Dawn
Was it the rustle of the wind
Or the sound of an engine idling?
The lights dim.
And the breeze dies.
In the distance
Birds sing their mating cries.
The sky is the color of blue haze.
The clouds have not yet separated themselves.
Electric lights pierce the haze.
Breaking the utopian vision.
Even the sky must bend to our whim.
Even the sky.