Evening Poem, July 19, 2017

 

 

The sky glows after the hot afternoon

As if what is left of the day’s bright radiance

Is dissolved and fades upward

Into heaven’s evening pastels

The birds rouse from their stupor

And call but do not fly

And cicadas cry from tree and wire

How can they be so loud and yet invisible?

School is coming, they say

The children know

And beg for one more hour outdoors

To chase the fireflies.

 

copyright 2017

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