Twilight

I stepped outside with the
Recycling, and everything felt like
Twilight. The sky was still
A faded indigo, the color of
Twilight. The air was
Warm at noon, now
Softly chilled to the temperature of
Twilight - cans and bottles rattled
The air as they fell through the
Top of the bin, clashing through the
Indescript feeling of
Twilight. My feet were bare, sculpting to
The soft pavement of
Twilight, I stepped slow to the
House, and I pulled soft shut the
Door, cut off encompassing air
Of twilight.

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