Wednesday, November 4, 2020

November Dusk Aria


Whiling the While till the supper crew comes home...

Something soft and gentle as November's early twilight mantle falls...



When dusk is like a painting on a pedestal of air 
When earth is reacquainting sod and sea with dimming flare 
When blush-blue velvet duvet shrouds the shoulders of spent day 
It seems a fitting homage to bow our heads and pray 

For never-failing grandeur from a Hand we cannot see 
He tucks November’s contours beneath twilight’s canopy 
And deepens with  sky-mantle, the ebbing landscape until 
Earth is snuffed like a candle on an autumn window-sill 

For articulate tugging on ties no one can define 
As dark of night is hugging dusk’s westward horizon-line
For sense of Gentle Presence staying just beyond our gaze 
Stirring in souls an essence when interpreted, is praise 

It seems fitting to thank Him as history claims its due 
In autumn-twilight anthem, for His never-changing view 
O'er nation against nation, He ushers in evening 
Fans feathers of compassion, tucks the world beneath His wing 


© Janet Martin 








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Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed by the visit! I welcome and appreciate, if thought you care to speak; the value and the input of compliment or critique