Light with a Twist

Sorta like Oliver pleading for more,
and in his case it was for food but
in my case it is for light, more
daylight, that is, because I yen
and I yearn with every enzyme
and blood cell that light of sun
(making day), and henceforth
this Daylight Craving Time
is a celebration which I hold
dear, and which I subscribe
to with the vigor of canned
carbonation.

So, I stand at dawn
with my face up to the
rising sun, (orange due to
more atmosphere its light must
traverse), utter, “More please,” like
Dickens’ kid, and hold my imaginary
plate (or Tupperware with lid) imploring
additional radiation extant.  I am smug but
true, for want is mine--or greed, perhaps, like
a ravenous wolf or a desiccated plain
aching for sufficient rainfall. 

I have a way to want more light, star
core generation, the birthing of illume
and glint, those manic photons being
wee.  I celebrate, compressed am I,
ala helium formed in super-heat as
plead my fate like Oliver.  Both of
us bold entreating that which is
required, and my dear Daylight 
Craving Time remains a meal
on which appetite survives,
while night stays a thin
fugitive sans arms,
unable to hold.


36 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
3-19-16