And then there is this,
another sky,
plenty of it,
again facing west,
two of us,
looking up at the end of day,
as we fill our cars,
the surface of the pond below,
frozen,
a beaver lodge in hushed tones,
fades into what will become
another night,
home then,
dogs are waiting,
and I am tired,
line of cars stretching on and on,
another sky,
two of us,
looking up.
aneverydaypoet60 