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silhouettes against the clouds
mere traceries of life
that boomed and strutted
in the sun;
all quiet now
as lady Night
unfurls her parasol
and soothes the land
with shadow.
A gentle time of night scent
potent on the air
a fragrant breath
too delicate for day
too subtle for the brazen
noonday sky
but perfect now
a mist, a trace
across the lips
closing over
secrets as the
Lady walks abroad.