Summer Sunset

Sunset sunlight laying itself gently down like fragile thin sheets of paper gold on westward facing leaves of lime and dangling laburnum bells.

To the east, high, harsh and pregnant-heavy, rainclouds are bergs of heat-bruised smoke and a light, capricious wind moves the dancing flames of my

dry-log fire. Big traffic is on the hoard and wolf road again. I can hear the cries of homebound geese.

My garden, my soul and my world need the promised rain. I will be gone before it begins. Tarzan must seek his God alone. It is the only way.

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