Night Sky
tied against the mountain
the blue children play
the upturned apples' cart
scent filled the air
The Wild herons flew southwards
as the crucible sun hit the apex
Crimson skies laced against
the white aconite churchyards
We left, denouncing the first hymn
we heard
surely someone has desecrated the night sky
Copyright © Antony Glaser | Year Posted 2023
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