Robin's Eggs

The ground went from brown

to speckled white

as a spotted curtain waved

in front of a small winter moon

Like when it rose in San Francisco

It didn't rain there much

but it poured on North Beach

Smokin' shorties

on the Filbert steps

in the Red Light District

the night I came in

and by the afternoon

a rainbow hung over
a turbid, thunder
moon

I figure I'm obligated

to look forward to it

That fresh smell

in the mornings

When the cold covers up

our potentials to bloom

I don't think we'd make it through

our hot wild birthdays,

without this

So, I wish for blanket cocoons

Because all things come

in cycles,

like they're meant to

We call it sanctuary

and we call it prison
We call it a necessary burden

We'd never come

running from our houses

Swimming through
our great adventures

without it

This stillness
This absence

The stillness
The absence