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Evening's Blanket
I watch the horizon
The oak boughs seem to be brush strokes on a blue canvas
Wisps of painted clouds tickle the leaves
Like lovers' hands entwined
In the evening their color fades
They become still shadows over gray
And their soft edges resemble the clouds they contrast in day
As if those clouds came to earth in the cool of dusk
To blanket the prairie
Then sleep there at night to grace the stars with clear skies
When dawn comes they gently lift...so soft and smooth
One never sees when heaven greets them
And the prairie wakes
I watch the horizon
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