these shorter days,
falling and falling in front of my eyes,
rain I can see but not feel -
what looks like a socked in sky
may really be sundown
sneaking in behind the clouds
It feels silent
but I can still hear ravens
and the rattle of the ladder
and the hum of distant traffic,
the quiet being, actually,
the day's anticipation of the night,
their brief meeting
soft as the clasp of hands.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 12, 2020
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