Some Sort Of Beautiful Apocalypse

I woke up to that bead of liquid amber poking through the pines.

My face covered in fuzzy marmalade light as I looked out at a sky of vaporized poppies, the blankets pulled tightly up to my chin.

Soon the sky became a bleached fury, like some sort of beautiful apocalypse,

and I rose,

stretched,

fed the animals.

January 2008
Lagunitas, CA