Crepuscule || Marie-Andrée Auclair

Three old men on the bench
at the edge of the square
lean against the frescoed wall of the restaurant
all evening long listen to oak leaves bristle
under the swarm of starlings who rustle in at dusk.
Hands gnarled
over the canes between their knees,
three codgers chuckle and nod
at the ancient chasing games
children replicate
in front of their unfocused eyes.
They masticate remnants of their youth
between gums accustomed to chewing tobacco
spit brown ribbons of saliva past their shoes
rehash inexhaustible stories of ancient conquests
in a last effort to extract contentment
and watch
from their bench
their last destination drawing near.

Marie-Andrée Auclair is a Canadian poet whose poems have found homes in many print and online publications in Canada, the USA, UK, Ireland and as far as Australia; to name a few: Bywords, Canada; Red River Review, US; Poetry Pacific, US; Structo, UK. In addition to writing, she enjoys hiking, photography, traveling and adding to her cooking repertoire after each trip.


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