by April 22, 2019 0 comments

It’s all to soon
for the sun to be
impaled on a
low horizon
or for windows
to wink shut
as dry winds
lose their growl
to light sea breezes
leaning lazily
on shorelines
while the dusk of
mercy and
angels with words
breathe a comfort
into darkness
as a pale moon
pushes up.

editors note:

An angel scratches ink, speaks peace. – mh clay

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