1.
The sun slips from the sky.
Another day joins the past,
each moment a frame
in burnt, halting celluloid.
Sad movie: cut—stop rolling.

2.
The clouds roam freely
like horses in open valleys.
I, too, join the play
in chameliod heavens
from this terrestrial point—
afar, stranded on dark Earth.

3.
The trees tremble.
Police sirens fade, distant.
Stars puncture the sky.
Everywhere cries are heard:
“Make this cohere once again.”