Eventide

Stalwart outlines pivot towards the western sky
Smoky brush-strokes rivet the upward eye
While whispers gather in the thickening air
Tugging at my heart-strings like a prayer

Under tattered remnants of the noon
I see the pale, white crescent of the moon
I study the path that flows toward the sea
I stand betwixt what was and what will be

Still-life painting wafts above the day
Its aching splendor soothes our cares away
Silence claims the restlessness inside
I revel in spring’s glorious eventide

Janet~

I really wished I had my camera on my way home tonight…
The sky was a constantly evolving panorama.