Dawn To Dusk Minuet
strange how the day shuts down, suddenly bleak,
as when the dawn crested three-quarters past six.
cumbersome eyelids befriend pen and ink —
outline of skinny trees, lack of stars,
hush’d homes — fig leaves do not hide them.
visible neighbors smoking chimneys.
the sooted smell of winterscape
as she falls fast asleep.
12/18/2019
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