UNDER THE VALANCE OF NIGHT


Dusk fell across the valley like a funeral shroud;
obliterating the light of day and hiding its wretched decay.
The hollow below held no trace of vegetation;
the furrowed land sat fallow and empty,
not even possessing the essential nutrients
to imply that the soil was once fertile.
The chain link fence held it in containment
as it rose above the barren void.
It gave the appearance that the Grand Master
had taken His pencil eraser and wiped
all that was beautiful and promising
off of His canvas. But it was a recipe
that had provided many great things.
One could be forgiven that the valley
lay disinterested in its plight.
The right Operator would return her
to its former productivity. Patience will grow.

For THE SUNDAY WHIRL – WORDLE # 71

THE SUNDAY WHIRL – Wordle #71