TWILIGHT

The last word is spoken by the sun
and the afterglow descends.

Sky blue settles on the river bed
Heavy from the longing lost to space
To come back screaming from the wood
Where one waits for an age.
.
.

The last ray lies upon the slopes
Late bird calls brothers in vain
The line of the horizon spills to blackness
Against the blackdrop storks turn for their nests
Under shelter of darkness emboldened mountains
fall on their knees
Silence
Awaiting
For the night to melt.
.
.

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