Moving Lines

I’m sitting on my porch looking across the line of the railing,
on to the one that is created when the setting sunshine collides
with the moving clouds. So the line moves, like the one between
us. Because once we laughed at the same joke, until we could
only talk. But yesterday, we fought into something that sounded
like silence. So the line moves, like the vertical line when a door
closes. Like when the sunshine collides with moving clouds
that move until they hover over an already setting sun.