Temperance

There is still some sunset left;
a sliver of undarkend sky.
Some glimmer of hope
that is, perhaps, a reminder
the sun will return.
(And, perhaps crisp the skin
and bleach the bones of the Earth.)

Especially here among the Rockies
where day and night are so precisely separated
and the seasons move ahead in jerks of temperature
there is some tendency to take sides
on this unending cycle beyond our control.

I think perhaps the ghost of temperance
now looks over my shoulder speaking
something between a whisper and a shout
looking for the ally I cannot be.

I am a product of the human race,
prone to my extremes of thought
and rash action, but I can strive.