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Island Vespers

while waiting for the Whidbey Island Ferry 


There is something seductive

about the silhouettes of trees in twilight

when through the black lace of their leaves

the last gleams of the setting sun

brush the creamy shoulders of clouds

turning them apricot and lavender

and the rosy tips of dark waves

shimmer silver and gold

as the sky deepens in color

and the mountains blush and turn purple

before the unveiled face of the moon

as she silently rises

in a swoon of stars.


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