The Low Hanging Sun
I went to take out the trash,
the good trash, glass and paper
destined for a re-incarnation
and as I stepped outside,
thee air cool and pearly white,
the low hanging sun smiles,
throws a late afternoon warmth
over me like a blanket of silk....
For a moment I stopped to think,
then thanked the low hanging sun
for being there, the last defense
against a cold deep unto death.
In our immense Universe, wallless,
ever expanding, is mostly night,
utter and fearsome darkness, all
pitch-black and cold, a coldness
beyond comprehension or life--
so the light and heat of every
myriad star is precious, precious....
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