Dusk: A Poem
How I love the dreaming dusk,
When drowsy life falls fast asleep.
And into houses, nests, and dens,
All breathing things do creep.
The silence falls like heavy dew
As one by one the stars appear.
The darkness comes with gentle step,
A quiet mother, drawing near.
The silver crescent of the moon
Is tangled in the trees,
While a gentle hushing lullaby
Is murmured in the breeze.
The amber turns to lilac
In a sky of deepening night.
And a gentle rush of wings is heard
From an owl’s silent flight.
In the last light of the day,
That smoky dimness, clear and cold,
The trees stand grave and dark and still,
Like father-kings of old.
The pearly light fades from the sky
And above the far horizon’s rim
Diamond bright a star is seen
Like a candle, flickering dim.
Laura, enjoyed your poetry, both of them. Your frequent writing reminds me of my deceased husband’s mother. Almost every day, beginning when she was a young girl, she wrote a poem. Bill said she always kept a pad and pencil beside her bed. At night if she had an inspiration, she would sit up and write notes without even turning on the lights. Her writings are very enjoyable reading. As an adult she had a radio program, reading her poetry. Some of her poetry was published by the Kansas City Star. So, the writing that you are doing now may lead to bigger things. It is marvelous that all are electronically stored on this one site. Keep up the good writing!