A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
Unlike the North,
The setting of the sun
A breeze worthy of a light sweater.
These are warm summer nights in the South.
But they have a charm of their own
With their warm – but not to hot – breezes,
Blowing gently –
Lusting one into a lazy trance.
One could stare out at the pink sky of twilight here
And galaxies beyond the sun
And be content to just be.