The night is darker than the most bottomless pit. In the shadows, sleek lizards slide over strewn rocks and worms dig into the earth. No lights bother the surface or reaches the rim. A stain of ink can swallow all colours. The moon rises and catches the ghosts by surprise. The trees' outlines stretch over the lawn. The wooden barn is now distinct among the pebbles. No one has stepped among the brambles in years. The silence is streaked with the night owl's tune. Lonely crickets chirp among slender prairie grass. Ivy overgrown attacks the walls. If nobody claims the farm, in a few years, the roof will cave in and the door will stick open. hinges dislodged. All the childhood memories, the quiet meals, will be forgotten.
Monday morning washing the dark colours of the week, take a peek into the neighbour's garden, where the pool is still hidden below tarpaulin muck the brand newly born mosquitoes fuzzing around in a cluster. the cherry tree laden with leaves and buds of fruit. Clear skies, blue. The hedge needs trimming. The daisies covering again last week's mown grass. Clean window sparkles bright light. Spirits lifting in revolution of stars, sun and spring. Clothes dry in the warm breeze. Peaceful silence of birds twitters. Everyone back at theirs desks. Tuesday morning will bring new occupation, But I'll be whiling the week away with words.
Through the window unclean, rays so bright fall on my page, fingers prints uncouth. Lines, spatters of rain or from sponged down effort of last Spring. Broken calendar, swept away. Discard the storms and keep the sun. Old records pile up the music cannot be thrown out. Memories and happy years constructing my being, brick by brick.