Mol

A breath of fresh air

A sleepy evening.

The fire roars,

consuming the cold and the coal.

 

We sit,

sleepy,

from the heat.

 

The sky turns,

gold to pink to fire,

that consumes the sun.

 

The dog,

twitching a lazy paw,

dreams of rabbits and hares.

 

And through a single,

solitary crack,

drifts,

 

a breath of fresh air.