Truth Comes Home
There will be times when the truth comes home, rumpled and needing a shave, as the darkness is peetering out like cold coffee and there's no time to sleep before the next day. Truth will come home sometimes with a grin eager for bacon and eggs and the air will be pregnant with ionic promise and then love, bread, and time, and plans will be made. Then other times the truth will come home only in whispers of hope, in the absence and emptiness of some future moment, in the garden of evening's cool, green shade.