the setting sun


the day ends as it started

quiet tendrils of the far off sun

caressing the ground

then the tree tops

finally the edges of the red clouds

peeking just over the edge

the end

the final line

until no more

the quiet settles in

and the temperature

like a child realizing the pan is hot

touching the stove

and dropping the pan

a loud clatter

and then silence,

shock

quiet.

It is night.

 

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