Evening Walk

The sun has set behind the great hills to the West of this valley,

But darkness has not come yet,  

Pavement  dark from the day long rains,

Soaked from the showers that have now ceased.

 

The smells of wet soil and damp foilage,

Not yet full of spring’s bloom 

And plumes of smoke rising from chimneys,

Lend further hint to the reluctance of winter’s passing

 

Rumbling loudly, a long train journeys past

Shaking the ground on it’s way to the coast

The world winds down, settling

Into the rythmic patterns of an ending day

 

Black bare trees, with only  tiny brave buds

Stand against the grey and white patterns of the sky

Birds not yet in their nests, sit in the branches

Singing their final song before nightfall

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