Day or Night
By Cheryl A. Van Beek
On the barn’s weathered wood
lichen glows
in the confusing haze
of night
or day.
Early
or late,
the stars
whisper light.
Above the barn’s arrow peak
fine-tipped branches tint the sky.
Clouds of orange sherbet
melt over night’s
blackberry dreams.
Strokes of blue hope
watercolor the horizon.
The sun’s sidelong glances
cross-hatch shadows
over the grass,
shroud the hills
in the future
or past.