Black, tall pine:
a silhouette
stark image etched
on orange blushing sky–
clear, bright, brief…
fast waning
of an autumn day

sun’s early set
sliver moon comes out,
cuts scythe-like curve
and glows our monthly clock

the sky I from my canyon spy
fills night blue, as ink bleeds through
a wide, bright page
new dark pricked
with early dots of starlight

fresh evening air
embraces me
and I, it back
as it penetrates
my core. . .

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