At dusk the sun reclined
and donned a cloud on his head,
he pulled the darkness to his chin
and the silver moon came in his stead.
At dusk we too laid supine
hearing the stridulating cricket croon
a chirp, a song at the end of its coitus
as we too made mad love under the moon.
And dusk to dawn, the blue hours between
while half the world engaged in its wars
we laid careless, warmly cocooned in limbs,
beneath the unwary moon and its band of stars.
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