Day 255 of 366: Night Shadows

A quiet walk along the evening streets. There is nobody in sight. No sound, just a breeze whispering through the trees, their leaves trembling and fluttering in the air of the night.

Now that I know
That passion warms little
Of flesh in the mold,
And treasure is brittle,

I’ll lie here and learn
How, over their ground,
Trees make a long shadow
And a light sound.

Louise Bogan

Night Shadows

 

 

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