Sun Falls

The sun falls again.
It clangs a church bell on the way.

Horses gather at the white fence.
Their discordant tales swish a unified prayer.

In the hollow, crickets speak vespers.
In the hollow, a cow lingers with one last grassy mouthful.

At the church, a divorce ceremony concludes.
A rubber stamp for last Thursday’s decree.

The neighborhood is now whole again.
The diminishing metaphors cease.

A mugger bypasses his next victim.
The slanted light of a falling sun

made her too beautiful to approach. He treasures
the moment too much to abandon it for money.


copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney

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