Darkness scales
the heights.
Swordpoints of
sunlight cut the sky.
Ever so slowly
dusk bleeds stars
over the pyramids
of night.
There is nothing
to say.
We pitch the tent
and light the stove.
Cooking food is a
stranger here,
embraced lovingly
and devoured.
We eat &
couple & retire.
Moonless dreams and nightmares
circle the cocoon.
We are mummies
here,
every night lying
quiet
for ten thousand
years.
E. A. Costa March 18, 2014
1 comment:
great stuff eugene
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