Smoke goes silently up to the sky, while the sun is setting;
Setting, setting, this day after thousands and thousands and thousands of days.
Feet move along pavements, people talk in the clean, cool time before twilight, and smoke goes up to the waiting, quiet skies.
Work is over, rushes are over; those who went out of kitchens in the morning are now in kitchens again; and smoke goes slowly up to the waiting, quiet skies.
From Hot Afternoons Have Been in Montana (Definition Press)
© 1957 by Eli Siegel