"After sunset – and
before the night -
when red tinged hues fills the dome of sky,
one can trace the imperceptible change of light
from the faded golden promise of sun on high
to the east where the black creeps in.
But not to signify the end -"
when red tinged hues fills the dome of sky,
one can trace the imperceptible change of light
from the faded golden promise of sun on high
to the east where the black creeps in.
But not to signify the end -"
an excerpt from a poem I wrote years ago - in the tenth grade about 1950 or so - and these winter end of days always bring it to mind
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