The setting sun graces the trees
at the back edge of the yard.
Time means less than it once did.
The shadows across the grass
mirror the trees’ branches
stretching toward the sun.
Here is where metaphor
should shift the light
turning a key like a prism.
Yet, there is no reflection
in the dusk, only a foreshadow
of an unforgiving night,
where all transgressions are called
to account as leaves fall like stars.
(June 8, 2023)
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