Last Air

As evening closes
the aging Summer becomes airless
when white clouds earn the
sun’s last glance, its soft light in
a final gasp of dusk in pearl’s pink –
like time’s pallor fading
towards the autumn of my life
It is here that the closing moments of
long days and short nights
begin a final dance to equanimity
and the evenness of night begs solace
from the promise of dawn, for
There are no tempests to cite here
the loss I feel since you’ve been gone
lays its iridescent claim to my heart
and rains in places I can never reach
as the light dims where nightfall wins the day

© K. James Ribble

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