Dying Day


Pink clouds against a darking sky,

Time stands still, as I watch the day die.


Deep shadows creep along fencerows.

A time to think before sleep comes and goes.


The butterfly heads for its bed,

Flocking bird wings whisper overhead. 


The moth unfurls for its nightly parade,

And the elusive bat flickers about in an eating charade


Basking in the afterglow of the heart of the day

The pain of opportunities lost soon slips away.


Bringing a peace to the turmoil in your head.

A time to put the old and bad to bed.


A time to contemplate the course of life.

A time to shed the pain and strife.


Let the sun put the day to bed.

Count your blessings, as the sky turns bloody red. 


While the warm peace and stillness spreads its way,

Over you from the embers of a dying day. 


Copyright 2000 © Ronald W. Hull




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