journal of a writing man

Work in Progress

Illusions on a summer's evening

Two sounds comprise a hot evening.
The fans, moving air from here to here
creating an illusion of breeze.
Cars on the road, moving from here to there
creating an illusion of purpose.
 
The light fades. Soon the sky will be blue,
moving from bleached denim to indigo,
creating an illusion of night.
 
 
John Bailey
Somerset, June 26 2001
 

 

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