my weariness is swallowed up in this enormous, dusky sky
stars appear each in their own turn dogs bark in the distance telling their stories of friend and foe an airplane slowly passes overhead, the hum only slightly heard over the humdrum of this moment lights flick on and click off down this street as neighbors slowly migrate from television to crossword puzzle book, from recliner to bed as the last drops of daylight slip behind the far mountain, fireflies take up the evening torch with their mad and untraceable dance my loneliness is swallowed up in this grand silence, the hum of my world only slightly heard over the humdrum of this moment and now i join the evening migration flick on, click off.
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about the writer.“Words are only postage stamps delivering the object for you to unwrap” (George Bernard Shaw) past tense.
January 2019
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