Generations in the still of my mind,

refrigerator engines,

the dusty kick of a furnace,

signs of the fall,

the beginning,

when we with shadowed wing

seek refuge from daylight’s demand,

oh to shelter my reality,

another brief respite,

yet knowing steady whir

distant ticking clock,

steady sound settle slow,

we know it will return

all signs of a sunrise,

whether bleak sky or radiant,

our morning has begun.

Anticipate the noise of the day

to have sharp affect upon our day.