Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Gentle-born Dusk






As I drove home this evening I watched dusk roll over the day, like a gray-blue tide obliterating the familiar in its surge.

Gentle-born dusk rolling soft like a sea
Where workman and wanderer roam
Filling our thought as farewell fills the lea
With whispers of home sweet home

Aerial anthem, arabesque descent
Twirling, unfurling to earth
See how the hour with night-sky is bent
Over blue fallow and firth

Time is a rebel; ah nay, it is I
Fighting what cannot be fought
Gentle-born dusk rolls from gates in the sky
Over our scribble and jot

Methinks the trill of a flute drifts somewhere
Wait; or is it just the wind?
Searching for roses to place in the hair
Of someone that he cannot find

© Janet Martin

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