Political Enemy (written a year ago)

How do the fireflies see my headlights?

How does a bird view the shoreline?

Little zipper he follows

because from breakers fish rise.

How does the fish see the trough beak,

of a gliding pelican?

Scooped up in a bucket

then black.

And how does the night see the day?

Estranged friend, political opposite,

unknown, unimagined,

never touched,

except two brief moments

at dusk and twilight,

sunset and sunrise

when the light and dark mingle,

and world’s spheres pull closer

for such a fleeting short time.

But noon will never know midnight.

Noon will never reach out to midnight

to comb her soft hair

or invite him to dinner

with no one else there.

Noon and midnight are as distant as

opposite ends

so they dream and envision

and write poems

imaging their counterpoint

has a wild side.

Maybe noon sees midnight as risky and loud

when in a peaceful place

it’s just not true.

Maybe midnight sees noon as too hot

when in a temperate winter

noon can be icy...