gloaming is pale
against the vacant
sky.
I cannot find
the space
from which to see
through the clouds
and
spy the stars.
The moon is
full and red
and tells a tale
of impending
storms.
Burning,
as it does,
so gently through
the cover.
A full red moon
and gloaming light
of morning
give me solace;
being surrounded
by comfort
and by joy
another day.
Just to hear
the silent sound
of gloaming
gives me pause
to know the balm
it is
across this life,
these lives,
among these days.
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