Sparrows dip in the evening sky
for insects as the warmth of the sun
slips from the dusty cheeks of the aged.
The sky assumes its night position
and masquerades as a bed of quartz
as if the light of the stars could comfort
the old ones for the loss of the sun.
Fog clings to the hillsides like late apples
on a branch in November. Another false night
for those still hungry for the light of day.
April 1983?
added 9/15/2016
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