August Skies
If you look backwards in time
you might see us
It was August
too many summers ago to recall
long after midnight
my brother and I
slipping through the valley of sleep
crawling out the window
onto the roof of the old sun-porch
drinking in excitement of the fresh night air
sprawled on a coarse gravel bed
searching the starry night
and watching for the first time
as the sky fell apart
then waiting for the world to end
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