Sunset is what this says to me,
the day is gone,
but forever this moment lasts,
where our yellow giant lazily drifts to its bow.
Soak in your last minutes of tanning,
call the children in for supper,
the day is gone,
however,
the day rolls up again,
in twilight the day has just begun.
Some yiddle-dings and geedles,
two types of critter lost in all remembrance,
their moment to shine is quick,
a sliver of moon glows their hazy blue day.
Yiddle-dings,
living in nut trees among the squirrels.
Working on their bitter taste, but fail in a,
crunch.
Geedles,
the skinny slivers that putty between riverbeds.
securing the pebbles and stones for the fish,
who is truly the moons watery flash.
Sunrise slowly in our sphere,
the air breathes from purple dusk,
to sighing an orange dawn,
a rest of forgotten critters,
a good morning to the bigger life.
