Life With Horace

poetry & essays

Transition from moonlight

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Awake not by choice,
my mind wanders freely
to think about change
as a passage, a progress.
Seeing light through the window
too early for sunrise,
the lamp of the huntress
sends beams without warmth.
As the moon sets I rise,
glance out at the shapes
tall pines against sky,
emerging from darkness
to frame the new day.

Author: Life With Horace

Poetry & Essays

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