By Abel Ashes (All rights reserved)
A dark cobalt blue sky cradles our mythical godfather’s white crusty navel, round as a basketball, glowing in lunar light.
Birds call to one another with chirping and whistles, welcoming the rising sun in its life giving explosive violence.
Water droplets create patterns resembling frog skin on the wide brown metal rim of a city garbage can as red stoplights glow like demon’s eyes.
The sky is lighter now like tacky 1980s stone washed denim blue jeans.
Darkened naked winter trees form a dramatic panorama resembling photo negatives of lightning bolts protruding from deep inside the Earth itself.
Steam rises from tombstones adjacent to thin pink strands of cloud illuminating the dawn like neon.
Blades of grass stab upward from under asphalt like saber wielding zombies ascending from their graves.
A nest in a tree looks like a Brillo pad stuck on a large serving fork surrounded by lumpy mashed potato rocks.
Vines cling to a tree trunk like a shy toddler clutching mama’s leg.
The sun has risen on another day.
The sun will set again.