Night Goddess

A rising sun
      lights western
   mountaintops.
     I watch
an autumn 
   morning slowly
      brighten.

A rising sun
      brings no stories.
   They seem to come
      later in the day.
   Experience
      takes time.
Stories need
   time to ripen.

After noon,
      darkening skies
      promise nothing,
   threatening rain,
      or maybe
snow.

Some days,
   when the raven
      talks to 
magpies, in that
   sullen silence
of the hot
      summer afternoon,
I think about her.

But nightfalls,
   brings an 
icy moon,
      Whiter than white,
night goddess.

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