which is softer, mud or midnight?
is the thick brown sludge
smoother than the dark black night,
or is the 12 o’clock hour rough and bumpy,
due to the silhouette of a city’s skyline?

when it rains and the mud
become slimy and slick,
is that a satin smoother
than the silk of a purple sky
and the warmth of cheap red wine?

is a time halfway between dawn and dusk
more gentle and delicate to us
to scars and wounds and broken hearts,
than when our fathers used to tell us
“put a little dirt on the cut”?

so which is softer, mud or midnight?
the physical texture of a smooth consistency,
or the light whispers of crickets and
the promise of rest, finally?
which is softer, mud or midnight?