National Poetry Writing Month: Day 4 – Returning Home

Parking lot nearly vacant
Daydreaming its own fantasies.
Early evening in
Quiet as leaves
Scrape the cold ground
Brittle then,
Gone now.

Branches quiver
In a light wind against
The changes of night.

Full moon
Rounded pale,
Knocking at my
Rolled up window.

Layered pretty,
White tops and
Pink shine tracing
Cloud’s belly,
My favorite winter type.

Town streetlamps,
Christmas strands coiled in trees,
Traffic lights,
Brake lights, headlights
Flickered, strobed, and glowed.

Hello, home.

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