Evening sky sags in recovery,
hanging a lantern — yellow half light,
birds recognize the nearing end
of a summer storm.
Still an angry rain kept time,
assaulting nests, branches,
where nervy occupants hung silent
for fear of toppling.
On the other edge of horizon,
a bleary moon ascended in silence
where normally trumpets
would proclaim her nightly reign.
Vending Machine Press - March 2016