January 14 - Crescent Moon in the Morning

A special kind of darkness creeps over a playground in the early morning.

It seems to me particularly special on this particular morning,

as I sit in the first chair (which is not so much a chair as a swing) for which my legs are too long and

               watch the darkness creep,

in retreat,

toward the West.

This is the darkness cast by shadows in moonlight,

This is a cold darkness

(both because it is January and because the moon’s blue light still clings to the ground)

This is a darkness that knows it cannot last.

The blue white crescent seems to bleed in the pink of its setting.

It seems that both sides have given up,

fully aware of their roles, both feeling condemned.

And it leaves me:

how do the sun shadows treat the moon shadows when they dance like this?

            the sun shadows, confident that they will overtake the weak blue umbrage of the night

            and the moon shadows, fully aware of the conflagration that will soon end their reign

Which considers itself reborn, and which – like Prometheus – condemned to die again?