Not Forever
by Steve Baliko


Rooftop frost conforms to light
shaped shadows and cactus white
hairs bleed to black, as stark day
regains atmospheric sway
over missionary ice.
Rime has licked down the sallow
barn -- gone as it came below,
above, so invisibly.
Granting me leave to humbly
consider my own veiled vice.
Midnight’s dross lingers well past
midday and season’s forecast
foresees the same, remaining
until warmer breath spills rain...
hope, close and bright, will suffice.