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!