Out on the Sky-line

Out on the skyline the crimson is dying

Deep in the heart its raw surge is renewed

Fall is the cradle of June’s supple sighing

Timber-lined crypt of youth-passion subdued

Early the rain draws its cloak on the twilight

Here in the hour of past setting sun

We draw the echo of hello and good-night

Into trembling pulses where two become one

Bully wind vexes the thin, tattered tresses

Of scarlet and auburn, of russet and gold

Wandering philanderer tugging the dresses

From nature’s fair maidens, stark, shivering and cold

Faith is the substance of things that we hope for

We hope for spring even now as the will

Of autumn entwines with the portend of winter

The vine clings to stone like hope clings to fall's chill

Deep are the seas of midnight’s moody brooding

Dark is the hill where new-moon pitched its tent

Darling, the music of a wood-land’s undoing

Moans in the hollow of longing’s torment

Here in the quiet of rain-song reminiscing

Here in the whisper of what is no more

We do not dwell on the wants we are missing

But hope for the morrow that waits on the shore

Out on the skyline the crimson is dying

Earth is a vessel into which seasons seep

Darling, it is only the wind that is crying

Searching like us, for something we can keep

© Janet Martin

I finished cleaning out the garden etc. 

The past two days were beautiful with rain holding off until late day or evening! 

I felt like I was working in a painting, the colors are so vivid! The sky-scape shifting constantly, I found myself apologizing...'sorry God, I have to walk through this beautiful picture for a minute:)'.  

Song for the Mira...or wherever in the world you are:)