Daylight Dirge

Dusk does not wave congratulatory banners

For our wee triumphs; save for green leaf turning black

Against the deepening palette of dripping moments

Drawing star-frothed fabric across our backs

And it does not speak of breath-wrenching surrender

Because in the battle against Time and its touch

We cannot win; but watch mute mist cloak the valley

As summer and children drift from our clutch

Dusk does not tell of tortured heart-tangos

As the air spills dew-fragrant memories of youth

Into the darkness where earth slips beyond vision

And sable stillness whispers life’s timeless truths

Dusk, like a gentle mother of many

Does not scold or threaten as its shadow is cast

But tucks the chatter of sun-threaded hours

Softly and tenderly into the past

© Janet Martin