Dawn’s gold washes brick
walls with pink under a thin
cream to grey-blue sky.
Below, in lucent
grey-blue shadows, a dull white
cover of snow melts.
Mary and Peg sleep
behind closed doors. I turn the
laptop speakers off
to protect the peace
before the dogs next door bark
and Mary rises
to take care of Peg,
who has a really bad cold.
Now, I sit writing,
in the gentle light,
in the quiet between dreams and
the clamorous day.
Roy Herndon Smith
dust 