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A Poem: Approaching 66 

Approaching 66 and looking upward
at yet one more sudden sunset,
distinct from all the thousands of others
I’ve been so privileged to witness,
too many for one memory to remember.

How many more will I enjoy,
be soothed by, be awed by, become dreamy by?
Each having me sum up
a day’s activities and planned hopes,
what’s done and undone, what time is left.

For within minutes changing shape and color,
orange, to pink, to purple, to gray,
dimming, fading into not yet twilight—

when Venus will first appear,
its bright white light of sun’s reflection
beaconing before the night—

when Orion will hunt across the darkness.

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  • A poem by Checko Miller.


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