Still

I want you as the morning stills, birds not

yet singing their songs, clouds still unformed, hiding

beneath the red horizon, waiting.

I want you as the noon shines down, blaring

like a trumpet’s call, paws and feet pounding

against the soft and hardened ground.

I want you as the sky turns to gray turns

to black, and stars begin to swirl, as the dust settles

for the night, ready to rise again day after day.