In the ending of the afternoon
A chill stirs the late summer air.
Those who have dozed away
the over-heated hours
realize that the sun has slipped
lower and it is time to catch up.

I, too, have been overtaken
by this feeling that it is later than I planned
and I must rush about my business
before the sun disappears completely.

I have no real business.
No difference lies
between my days and my nights.
Yet, in the lengthening shadows
of the ending of the afternoon
I turn to watch the workers
head home, as I once did
Through the shadows of the
approaching evening
and the final night.


  1. Marian, this has depth and it turns in interesting ways. It also stirs up feeling. It’s a poem I could read over and over.

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