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         A Dying Fire

The sun was descending
Behind a wintry wood,
It signaled that day was ending,
As trees in coldness stood...

Through the wood bedimmed,
An orangish disk did shine;
The trees were darkly limbed
And drew their darkened line...

Across the face of the sun,
They darkly crossed it so;
It shone, no longer one,
But sev'ral embers  aglow

O'er the horizon, under,
The setting sun entire,
Was broken now asunder,
In coals of dying fire.
   

                       ― John Riedell

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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