At Sunset
If I had hit the shin of the earthWith a club, it would bear the colors
I see as the sun retreats: lurid reds
And purples; yellows in places
And lingering blues. If I stay any
Longer, I'll be wrapped in darkness,
A bit bruised myself, a bystander
Caught up in some sort of riot.
My species, now mad, has taken
To swinging its club at both earth
And itself.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck

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Written on 2021-01-18 at 00:55




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