The sun went dark today,
and not a soul noticed.
A filmy black veil drifted,
unseen, over careful autumn
light—gold as honey, and
drowsy as midsummer.
No one remarked on
the quiet shadows,
fluttering like prayer flags
in an oven-hot breeze.
No one squinted into
the afternoon’s flat glare
to discern the source
of treeless shade.
Nor did anyone pause
to gaze upon a sunless field
beneath the cloudless sky.
Only I, it seems, was trusted
with this secret, was blessed
with this knowledge and,
like a Hollywood hero,
determined not to cause
a deadly panic in the streets,
I chose to remain quiet,
to serve as a silent witness to
the dimming of the sun, while,
around me, holiday-makers
played on, blissfully, perhaps
intentionally, unaware.
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
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