the sun sets softly
a young bird’s feather on the cheek
and the evening breeze rises
sunset
looking to the sunset
looking to the sunset
soft hand on strong shoulder
waiting for the night
and then the new beginning
sunset silhouette
sunset silhouette
as the tide slowly rises
my breath is taken
you live to the south
you live to the south
waking in winter you see the sun before me
evenings I climb the highest hill
to hold it in my eyes a little longer
until suddenly like hope it slides away
the sunrise
the sunset is its promise;
the sunrise is its coming true
Wind-kicked leaves
Wind-kicked leaves, red and golden, drift slowly down to autumn bed. The sinking sun touches horizon trees, is laced with branches and leaves us, leaves us a fire-shot sky of evening.
The houses call us – no, not the houses, home, the shelter. Hand in hand, our backs to the dying in the distance, we fade away to deeper darkness.
simonsalento 