Even half-blind
I see how you brighten our north-western horizon,
sky shifting from orange to red to purple —
how only puce remains to greet
the pinpricks of your ancient cousins —
those who bide their time.
This is your realm.
As long as you are lit they blush respectful,
bow before your golden glow —
but soon —
twilight diamonds sprinkle greetings through your dreams.
Far into the cooling night they twinkle —
until you yawn —
stretch out your fiery fingers to wake our dawn.
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