Feb 20, 2013


The sun disappears behind hills,
a white light still remains.
No pink or red or orange
with tight purple streaks, 

through a white cloud.

I suddenly feel

we can never be destroyed,
but I know otherwise.
        It's only a daydream
        an overwhelming breeze
a constriction that I can't see
opening up in the heart
on a warm evening.

Joseph Ceravolo