Dusk: A Poem

Night touches the sky,

Runs its trailing fingers along the edges of the clouds,

In the gaps between the stars; the half-ripe moon

Brings forth her soft glow, curling mist

Around her toes and brushing her lamp-light against

The trailing trees;

A silence slowly falls upon the earth,

In the gap between the evening and the darkness,

It settles like snow, a grey and temporary sphere

That lingers on, under heaven

And the stars.

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