downtown Dallas skyline--image from flickriver.com
This is my original poem--published at mockingowlroost.com/blog/indigo-just-before-dawn/ on August 5, 2026.
Moths have stopped circling the porch light, their wings now are as stiff as old letters. The night stretches thin ~ a slow dissolving of indigo into nothing. Somewhere, a dog barks twice, then remembers it has no one to call for. The wind picks up discarded leaves, flipping them over like forgotten coins. A train sounds its horn miles away, a ghost passing through the ribs of the valley. I stand at the window, watching my breath fog the glass, then disappear. The dark is patient. It knows how to wait for the first hesitant fingers of sun to pry open the sky.
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