Virginia Carraway Stark

Darkness settles
In the wind and the mist
That rise up from the wild clay soil
Like a cool cloak
Of dark moon splendour
The gloaming is alive
With tendrils of fog that seek
All that is warm and safe
Stars spakkel the sky
In slow degrees
As night seeks me with
The softest fingers
Luring me with the loss
Of my senses as dusk
Puts out my eyes
And wakes me from the world
Into slumber

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