A Softer Sun

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As a softer sun spreads gently over wilted flowers,

the bees are no longer visible now, hunkering

down in their nests, and geese murmur

in the bay, resting from their journey.

You and I whisper in the early

morning, as we place

another blanket

on the bed.

       

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

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