I lie soundlessly

cradled in the peace,

waiting for

the first breath of day,

basking in

the dusky night sky,

inhaling the breeze

caressing dawn,

moon fading

to daybreak,

clouds parting

to allow the blink

of sunrise.

The day peeks

with first blush

in shy whispers.

I feel naked

in the revelation

that I am alone

but not lonely.

Infancy of new day

tiptoes softly

into my soul,

bathing me

in cottony light –

embodiment

of rebirth of life.

#Challenge #TimeOfDay #FirstBlush

Moonlight drains the world’s colors

Inky stelliferous space

Darkness making the perfect cloak

Nocturnal animals come out to hunt and play

In cities, all the lights shine bright

Ghosts and spirits are seen now at the witching hour

Hungry students studying, look for a snack

The clocks all chiming twelve

cold pavement dying fire

distant screams tears of joy quiet talking

headlights beaming car motor oven whirrs

plates and napkins forks and knives death and life

talk of nothing repeating forever never

homework dishes soft rain crashes

blinding sunset purple clouds

deafening silence

silence from the moon lovers

quiet anticipation from the sun seekers

stillness wraps itself around bodies

steadying souls in the calm

the brilliant are dulled but not damaged

maybe numb maybe tired maybe self-possessed

storms of minds reduced to mere drizzles

thoughts stomped out by peace

for just a moment the journey pauses

for just a moment this is all there is

The tinkling dew of

Sunshine glory

Welcomes the shine

Of first light, rosy

Crafting the hues

that color the world around us.

Dawn is that time when

the sky becomes a painter’s palette,

and light becomes a pigment.

The rustle of leaves

Of the winds of ten o'three.

Stars blink in the vast Nebraskan skies

In a place of corn, a look up can make you cry.

Nyx looks down, lulling you to sleep

Nights the best time to think deep.

crickets play their songs

Chirp, Chirp Chirp, Chirp

Since you've seen these skies, it's been a yearlong.

Wildgrass pulls you down, it's time to sleep.

one, two three, count the sheep.

You don't want to sleep,

You beg, cry and plea

The last thing you see is eleven fifty-three

Sometimes,

I think of the times

when the sun was just some sign of the time.

Moonbeams,

the seed of our dreams,

reflections of unknown familiar scenes.

Twilight,

a darkness so bright,

in deepest of silence

we're deafened in fright.

Daybreak,

brings something to wake,

Creation is one more thing to unmake.

The clock ticks,

And hums.

Because it is electric.

I thought about buying a battery operated one

Or maybe one of those digital alarm clocks,

but I didn't.

The clock tells me the time of day,

If I set it correctly.

Sometimes I forget that the power went out last month

and I did not reset my clock.

I see it and think that the time is right;

did I tell you that it hums?

Because it is electric.

The clock ticks,

And hums.

Maybe I will set it right today,

if I can find one set at the proper time that is------and I'll never have to ask again,

"does anyone know what day it is?"

And sometimes,

(not always, only sometimes),

when I see red, its really blue;

And the hum I hear is madness breaking through,

Or maybe its just the thing that some clocks do.

And if no-one hears the sounds I say I do

does the clock tick on for no one,

even you?

Ticks and hums.

Because it is electric?

But I never set it right -- the clock that is,

not since the power went out,

I'm pretty sure.

And maybe I never will,

and then again I might

-- and that's OK too---

Because my clock,

it still runs,

and it ticks

and it hums;

I'm so glad that it is electric.

hashtags: eccentric poetry, electric clocks, time, inspired by challenge to write about a time of day