TIDES OF DUSK

Mornings incense warms the day.

A rising sun thirsts for heat.

Dawn becomes a memory vapor.

 

Warm catches out day as breezes

push through branches,

sounding like children singing.

 

Warring heavens of blue and black shadows

descend like bridges over day’s shoreline as

the warm and the voices yield to tides of dusk.

 

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