The Golden Hour

The day is on its back, but not quite asleep just yet.A silk net catches the last raysAs an eight-legged ick nears its winged prisonerAnd beaks above chatter their goodbyes for now.A crisp air hugs the horizon closerAs the sun’s hair falls gently goldenOn her rocky shoulders, preparing for hypnosis. A slither of moon escapesContinue reading “The Golden Hour”