Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Impromptu Poem

Dusk

1.

Bone white ash,
scent of rain, evening lilac.

Ribbons of wind
confusing the landscape,

kicking up dust
for a hundred year storm.


2.

Silence troubling the air.
Nothing new,

nothing learned or gained
throughout the night.

Everything has turned
from white to black.

.

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