John Scully

(19th October 1947 / London)

Horizons Far


When the morning was over
and the sun crumbling noon,
ants kissed the patio dust
disappearing down cracks of the dead.
While a living air of calm
drifted midday into afternoon prayer,
and clouds sailed on the jib
caught by waves of an evening somewhere.

Submitted: Friday, January 18, 2013
Edited: Friday, January 18, 2013

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