Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Dusk Doggerel


Dusk reaches where each field is like a sea of gold-flecked sod
To tousle Benny’s hair a bit and tweak the cheeks of Maud
Then while we are distracted by the color of its sighs
It plucks the daylight from the air and dims the lighted skies

Like flowers, hours open, bloom then fall into the dust
Like children, we dash through Time’s living-room of toil and trust
Like miracles, the everyday unfurls from Mercy-reels
To scatter memories like leaves beneath dusk’s chariot-wheels

Purple is more than posies pressing through spring’s dormancy
It is whispers caressing what will soon no longer be
It is the mist of autumn rolling in across the moor
Where dusk reaches across the air and closes daylight’s door

It gathers, like a mother hen its brood of buy and sell
It settles soft upon the glen and woodland citadel
It rustles in a lullaby of plush, hush-shushing peace
And muffles with its ruffling sigh day's final, faintest crease


© Janet Martin

...that's how it felt to me, sitting on the steps outside until it was dark, then coming in to realize its only 7:15!
 


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