Sol Y Luna

My soul

is second helpings

of homemade apple pie,

double crust,

dust with sugar in the raw.

It’s cotton-white clouds

in a hurricane’s eye;

chaos,

sipping peace

through paper straws.

It’s

the summer sun sinking,

grieving loss

of golden hours;

reflections of the day

like moon in eve’ —

soaking up the light,

in darkness,

soular power;

dusky dreams

drawing the warmth

with stardust seas.