December Dusk

Day retires blue and early

Past stark chimney-flute and wood

As December’s brogue, bleak, burly

Slips across dusk’s forlorn brood

June’s thicket once rich with laughter

Shivers in the sober chill

Dusk lowers its cobalt rafter

Stilly over field and hill

We behold day’s swift adjourning

Like a year of half-spent dreams

Thought amalgamates with yearning

In December-dusk requiems

Day surrenders contemplation

To a tide bantering; brusque

Death in spectral consummation

Drenches dark December's dusk

© Janet Martin

Last evening we stood at the window, the little guy I baby-sit and I, watching blue brood ever bluer over the dying day...