Sometimes everything's enough, yet insufficient: because somethings, however scratchy, cannot be etched with words.
The grey noise ebbs suddenly away, Leaves me in a quaint reverie— Sporadic thoughts, assuaging ruminations hold sway— Distant companions to every Swift, slow or wild mood of mine. The madrone Hills fade surreptitiously in the eerie sunset— I get up. Moonlight. I am on my own; Quietly I vanish into the glowing shadow belt. 55 word poem
Comments
That, my dear Shuby, is profound!