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Sunrise and Sunset

This week’s poetry.  Written on a bus trip.


Morning is a secret time,

Of misty, clandestine hills

And haphazard,


It casts shadows in

The wake of day,

A promise to the earth.

In the time when

No man stirs

The earth is itself,

Peaceful and untouched.

The giants are slumbering.

The sky is pale as if

Recovering from the

Sickness of the night.

The bushland glows in

This ethereal light.

How we love to miss it.



Voices have dimmed to a low hum,

Feet rest on seats,

Heads slumped on shoulders.

It has been a long day.

The trees fly past the window,

The sun waves an unseen salutation

Then dips, pastel hues, behind the horizon.


The page and pen are blurring into one.

No choice but to feel where words should go.

And the same desaturated blue of sunrise

Fills the sky this sunset.

About E.K.M.

Studying at university, passing the time until a publishing Talent Scout comes to pick me up and whisk me away to a world where I can be an author without having another source of income. If only.

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