Monday, November 19, 2012

When the Night was Animate

The radio guzzled drunkenly, white noise in the presence of my louder thoughts.
Clouds, fallen, hovered visible only at an angle in the yellow street-lamp light;
ethereal spirits dancing to that white noise.
The grass groaned with the weight of that first frost;
the leaves had given up their fiery garb of the fall.
The wind cat-called through the flattened landscape, and the trees rustled back flirtatiously.
Winter stepped in, a fair gentleman, he would grow bitter with age of course, but for now he was content to simply redden my cheeks in a paradoxical blush.
I stilled my breath to observe, accompanied only by the winking stars, and we gazed together pensively watching the animate night.

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