Westward streams the stead of morning through a lower, lesser sky
Sweeps through noontide, soon soft-tuning dusk’s dark strings with lullaby
Woo me with your wisp of welkin ere your dusk of purple-blue
Gathers what remains of daylight into Bygone’s phantom flue
Westward streams the stead of morning through a lower, lesser sky
Sweeps through noontide, soon soft-tuning dusk’s dark strings with lullaby
Smooth the stark and stilly scene of soon-twilight-enshrouded-bars
With a probe at gleaming embers stoked into a show of stars
Ere the flare of whispers winnows into farewell-blue chambray
Wake within me keened awareness to what weaves each yesterday
Tuck the cold curves of December beneath soft white-tumbled banks
Fill frosted panes of Remember with panoramas of thanks
© Janet Martin
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Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed!