Daydrift
Daydrift
Sundays leak by
in a persistent drip
of silence..
a twinkling, momentary
refuge from the
noisy world of violence
Sleepy seagulls slip
mounds that shift
restless feathers furled
No traffic, no trucks
no people rushing
and loud
Then all that is left
is a crescent
where stars grow
and fill the sky
Copyright © Sherry Asbury | Year Posted 2018
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