The ripples quivered in joy,
As the wind swam across the river
The black mass above cracked
Letting the waning light through,
Casting gleaming patches on the water below,
Filtering through the leafless branches ashore,
Over the rain washed bench,
Across the orphaned railway line,
And onto the little wooden houses along the bank,
Framing their pretty colored rooftops,
Red, blue, pink and yellow.
A few days hence there will be a dusk no more
only a perpetual light and a kingdom of life dying to come alive.
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