The Slow Simmering Down of Day

Ding dong.
The clock is dead.
The Lake is bowing her gorgeous head
only to the ebbing sun.

Her indigo blue
dress has blushed crimson slate,
and she’s twirling to greet
a great rising stone moon.

Enter the bear. Brown. Lumbering
along. The scent of silence that is snow.
Campfire crackling on tongue.

Ring, song
the day ends with a star twinkle
and a
tinkle chime.


Prompted by Quickly in November, day 25

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1 Response to The Slow Simmering Down of Day

  1. You did so well. I’m still struggling with this one!

Use your words.

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