It’s dark and crickets are the only sound
coming through the open windows.
A light breeze pushes curtains
so that a sliver of starlight seeps in.
The lush hills of the canyon and
sun warming my skin are but memories
when all is covered in night.
I don’t speak much of these moments,
solitary and sparkling,
because some of the best things
are felt and left unspoken.
The Word Rummager 
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