at twilight,
high in my writer's loft
i stand vigil at the window
and watch
as the forest goes black


the big sky,
marbled with dark blue clouds
slides like thin paint on glass
into the forest


night is falling
in the Okanogan Highlands

slowly, but suddenly
the sky and forest merge
into the blackness
that is night


the window
in my writer's loft
is transformed
into a black canvas
awaiting creation

5 thoughts on “Poetry ~ Night

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