A million stars fall deep in shade,
shade of valley thickened with leaves.
Leaves cradle stars in fiery graves.
Graves tended to by trees that grieve.
Grieve not, they cry from ashen earth.
Earth slows her spin as mourners wane.
Wane of night's stars sprays dust around,
around lightning in summer’s reign.
Reign of night ends come bright sunrise.
Sunrise of dawn takes sovereign throne.
Throne dims at dusk with glowing stars,
stars rise, reborn; dawn’s sun outshone.
Inspired by Nette’s contest (4 Line)
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
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