Winter Sunset


I ride a van home every night, twenty miles, in waning light.


It gives me time to contemplate, the changing seasons; and all the reasons, why the city steals my time, and doesn't rhyme.


Sometimes in winter, a front comes through, clears the air, and brings to view, a winter sunset, to renew.


My soul; and make me whole, in a melancholy way, basking in the warmth of the blood red glow behind tall buildings of a dying day.


Soon, the night will come down like a cold rock on my heart.

Copyright 1998 © Ronald W. Hull




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