Moth. [NaPoWriMo 2017] 24 April 2014, journal.

Midnight sweeps

a quiet exhale adieu

the gentle vale drops

mist across the moon

kissing shoulders

they turn away

seamless pivot and undulation 

peace, deep under the stars.
The pause and kick reset of the old refrigerator

familiar mechanism, hum

a sentry centered in the dark downstair
snoring lightly, pointing ground birds to flight

the dog wings swift over my white comforter

and just as she is about to catch her folly

startles

gasping for air in a chase she did not run

she spikes stiff and re-curls

a quiet exhale adieu

the gentle vale drops
mist across the stubble grass

spooning under the same sky

miles and minutes – only minutes – apart.
Dar Dawson (c) 2014

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