Slowly evening falls –
The heat of the day lingers
Into the darkness
The barest lunar sliver
Doesn’t even cast shadows
Stone cold earth, rock hard,
With a dusting of thin frost
Sparkling in headlights
They exchange diamond rings,
“And with these rings I thee wed . . .”
Contrapuntal threads
Of the Baroque orchestra –
Patterns in the air
Planets spin around the sun,
The river of the cosmos
The coffeemaker
Automatically turns on
Before he wakes up
As the mornings get colder
And as the nights get longer
She tends to remain,
Even after waking up,
In her spacious bed
Holding on to a brief dream
That steadily slips away
After forty years
Retirement has arrived,
Now he has some time
To contemplate the plum trees
When they blossom in the snow
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