There are those crepuscular moments
Where all seems right
In the setting sun
When the cranes come out to feed
Flying low over the bay
Their dark forms cutting
through the sunset
like silent black kites
they are yachts of dusky skies
behind a stiff cocktail
and hilarious company
we are made ephemeral in the laughter
shimmering in the distant darkness
they drop into the harbor
plucking fish out of the
reflective membrane of an upside-down world
they harp into obscurity
their casual patience paying off fortuitously
with the distant strumming of a guitar
I am plucking the waves of their minds
we rock through the wake
where brevity is a lantern in the darkness
effectively illuminating their humanity
in simple wisdom
framed in simple emotions
genuine and loving
unable to see the emergent night creatures
perhaps unable to see the darkness at all
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