SUNSET AT THE BEACH
This is the hour of pastels,
silver and rose and palest pinks.
Only the sun, the master of
these ceremonies, dare wear
a bolder hue, more brilliant
than the red of any rising moon.
The sound of sea, which seems
at first a monotone, to careful
ear a blend of subtle tones.
For sandpipers and terns it’s
suppertime in nature’s dining room,
and beach umbrellas slim
down to wait another morning.
A wedge of pelicans flies west
in inky contrast to the muted
backdrop where once the sun was.
With all this peace one must
wonder, can war be anywhere?
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