I love the evenings of quiet. Red hot coals of the fire dying out then brightening as if a breath were made upon them. My eyes still burning from the day in the sun. I keep them open as soft moonlight and darkening shadows play indistinguishable creatures peeking over the low brush and disappearing into the warm earth. I see it all as if it were a dream. . . I drift into unconsciousness to dream about dreaming in the desert. I believe. Red hot coals of the fire dying out then brightening as if a breath were made upon them. My eyes still burning from the day in the sun. . .
Saturday, February 11, 2023
Walter Feller
I love the evenings of quiet. Red hot coals of the fire dying out then brightening as if a breath were made upon them. My eyes still burning from the day in the sun. I keep them open as soft moonlight and darkening shadows play indistinguishable creatures peeking over the low brush and disappearing into the warm earth. I see it all as if it were a dream. . . I drift into unconsciousness to dream about dreaming in the desert. I believe. Red hot coals of the fire dying out then brightening as if a breath were made upon them. My eyes still burning from the day in the sun. . .
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
CLS Sandoval
Flowers On the side of the road, near the place she took her last breath. They set some tulips in a little pile. The warms of spring...

-
Flowers On the side of the road, near the place she took her last breath. They set some tulips in a little pile. The warms of spring...
-
The Clouds Slip So Silently By as do the years, more slowly but no less surely in all their fourth-dimensional invisibility ...
-
Bridge of Time As winter slowly disappears into dark nights with past days never to be lived again a newness is on the horizon ...
No comments:
Post a Comment