Insignificant dust stands on the deck leaning against the rail drinking hot coffee, the sky is black and the earth is not awake. Staring into the morning before the sun speaks and birds begin to sing, a small heart cries out “Oh God.” Can you see my tiny?
The moon reflects a cloud, and the stars twinkle. Dogs run across the half frozen tundra, the trees beg to bud and the flowers are colorless. Spring is in need of the of bloom, dead brown leaves are still muddy covering the grass. Robins look for food and old man winter is becoming lonely.
The quiet of the almost night is a jet racing across the sky. The earth is turning. Each new day is a season of life, each moment is a decision. But for just a few seconds more I beg to burn my lips on my woman or another cup of hot coffee. My dust cries out again, oh God can you see my tiny?