Walking Home
Air breaks
off in pieces
and slips
to the ground.
Breath comes
and goes
ruluctantly
like glaciers.
In a window
as big as
they sky,
a burst of yellow
stands tall
on someone's sill.
Fingers of gold
erupt in dozens
of rays
that warm me
like a ittle
explosion of sun.
Copyright © Robert Sturgill | Year Posted 2015
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