Perfect Performance

Day lingers; a guest
reluctant to leave yet resigned.
A final shaft of light
stands awkward in the hallway,
grows thinner by the minute.
A wedge between them.

Night waits; admiringly patient
as always. The familiar performance
needs no explanation.
The moon swells, hidden,
respectful to dying daylight.

There’s a moment of silence
while darkness lets
everything settle before
bruised sky soothes
into inky compliance
as another day ends.

~The H Word~

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