Sun And Sundog

On the way home,
north on the highway;
falling sun on my left,
dim sundog in the clouds
to the right. Pillars
between which I roll
until I see the sundog
dead ahead.
The sun itself
has moved farther
to the left now, 

and then they are both
to my left
and the rainbow spot
once on the right has almost
come level now
with the nose corner of 
my left eye.

It’s my trajectory
that moves, not the 
sky. I know this —
but this illusion 
of change being
a destiny being achieved
beyond my own efforts
thrills me,
today at least.
One small joy
on this too often
untrustworthy path.
Today, at least,
I’m at peace,
moving between 
lights toward rest. 

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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