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.

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