Two Suns

by F.C. Shultz

Falling off a cliff
into the dirt gray
morning, shuffling
around until hot drink
and the book sits beside
as the gold hair of
morning falls across
the sky; glorious.

Crossing the bad leg
over the better one
as the impressionist
paints with last light,
cold cup and mate beside
until the paint fades back
to gray, a rise and set
in one day; divine.