It was early evening when I was nearly strangled by a sunset. The sun beat like a giant reddish ember--its rays like deadly octopus legs trying to strangulate my pasty white neck. Luckily I had a small mirror to hold up to the twilight, turning the dastardly solar strangler back onto itself.
As can be imagined, I made it to the safety of my home with some speed and hid myself away in a black basement closet. With the hours gone by I moved with trepidation back into the night and was relieved to still be at peace with the moon and stars. My quarrel was with a setting sun for reasons I can't ascribe. I'm going to assume it was a case of celestial mistaken identity and that by tomorrow evening it will have been corrected to my relief. If not, I will make myself famous as a bat researcher, a kind of modern day Bird Man of Alcatraz. Best to always keep busy, no matter what sun comes your way.
Poetry Pantry #412
17 hours ago