[Inspired both by Bad Poetry Day and by DP's instruction to "write the worst poem." It sort of took a bad/interesting turn . . .]
Evening
Tonight the soft cow's nose of evening creeps in like small children in velvet slippers with loving but strange intentions.
A sudden burst of gladness at the shore, the sea kissing the mud, the black dog with his eyebrows and white muzzle kissing the sea.
Twilight and the ghosts are waking up.
Muzzle of chill, scarf of chill, mantle of damp.
Canada evening. How unlikely.
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