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Dec 2018
Summer Triangle
Has slewed across the dome
Sunset has clenched its fist
Insists on dragging it
Down through the deepening hues
Faint aurora mocks its downfall
Fingers of antidark jabbing
Up at the midnight blue
Summer Triangle
Defies its name
Woefully dragged west
Slipping, slipping but
Still in sight
Listen in the frost-savaged air
You can almost hear it
Scratching the night.
Dawn Hogarth-Burton
Written by
Dawn Hogarth-Burton
     Rogues Gallery, Sam, Perry and PoetryJournal
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