There is a shade of indigo                                                                                                                 that describes night.                                                                                                                                 I’ve chased it all my life in order to                                                                                               paint the nocturne,                                                                                                                                 if only in my mind.                                                                                                                             Add to it, some Van Gogh stars,                                                                                                             a hint of Coltrane,                                                                                                                                   a string of lanterns,                                                                                                                                 a time warp.

Stillness pools like breath held.                                                                                                            I walk outside,                                                                                                                                        air warm as silk;                                                                                                                                   not a thought in my mind.