four a.m.

at four a.m.

atticus grumbled at me

from the side of the bed

his wet nose

nuzzled my face

he woke me

to go outside

at the time

when the moon begins

to give way

to the sun

i put on my shoes

and grabbed his leash

as i opened the door

a warm glow

was falling across

the calla lily

resting on the porch

her blooms

looked like angel’s horns

lying in

giant green leaves

shadows of wings

with miscellaneous

golden things

a silhouette

on the brick walkway

we traveled past

not to interrupt

a sacred monologue

atticus sniffed the grass

to investigate

who had recently trespassed

as we were sleeping

under moonlit skies

the world so quiet

not a light on

darkness lingered

in windows of rooms

under pitched roofs

the sky was lighter

than hours before

and the stars

all at once

gazed at me

from who and what

lies above

i thanked atticus

for this moment in time

when all felt calm

and right

in this world

in this beautiful place

i call home

yet later in the day

when skies turned into blue

and nouns turned into verbs

all that we rue

will be the days

on earth

our children

our children’s souls

and all the seeds

that never bloom

will sadly

fade away

a well documented

human doomsday

— patty

painting by alfred ng