Death Takes an Evening Constitutional

8/9/2019

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As we walked on,
Death didn’t notice the crisp cold settling in.
The early evening pinks and purples growing darker,
reflecting in an iridescent halo over the trees.

Bony fingers close around my warm hand.
The world turns grey with the promise of the moon
lighting it again in cold, white light.
Death never notices things like that
but taught me to notice everything.

-H.R. Maxwell