Encroaching silence with its legions of,
Thought. Myriad reflections surface at,
The falling heel, which strikes a muddy pool,
Draws into each speck every ounce of day,
But is undone and flitters as the light.

A moody sky drags teal greys -
Greeting them with a sort of dim aqua,
At the boundary of arboreal shadows -
A quiet sky brews upon the firmament,
Like the afterglow of a chemical reaction -
The dimming blues tide over into slate.

Installation adventures,
To tap commands into a box,
And watch the flowing symbols roll,
Telling epics of a ceaseless searching,
For files and files through thorny directories,
Till they stitch together the needed code,
And there it is: the fated program,
To let me draw some pixel peeps,
And maybe learn to make them walk,
In pixel ways along the screen.