Wednesday Morning, Impromptu
You and I, a lingerer’s goodbye.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the sun rise.
I drove alone from your town to mine
on the crowded highway’s massive bridge
over civilization still sleeping below.
Pink eased around smeary clouds just then
growing golden above the tree line, and
I thanked you silently (or probably I gasped).
I meant to tell you what my father always said:
Red sky at night, sailors delight.
Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.
In your arms again, I forgot to say,
but I know you’d remember there was no storm,
the sky was wrong and the memory beautiful.