Decline Of Day Poem by Steven Federle
Decline Of Day
Gentle breeze,
swaying trees
leaves
golden-green.
Imperfect sphere
sliding through day’s
perfect, blue air.
Ascends the moon
stark and silver
much too soon.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Topic(s) of this poem: silver
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8/27/2026 3:55:00 PM # rel_20260826T082754Z_99b456e
