At end of day
Soft dusk falls slow through fading light
At end of day
Owl hunts ghosts through shadows grey
While shades of day slip into night
And those who sleep curl out of sight
At end of day.
At end of day
Published by
At end of day
Soft dusk falls slow through fading light
At end of day
Owl hunts ghosts through shadows grey
While shades of day slip into night
And those who sleep curl out of sight
At end of day.
Mad woman from mediocrity, muses.
Writer & Photographer
of a son
Minoan Linear A, Linear B, Knossos & Mycenae
Ramblings of an Irish ecologist and gardener
Poetry of a changing Earth. The grief is real--so is the hope.
Inspiring others through the written word, fictional blurbs & documenting my writing process from scratch.
occasional musings of an itinerant seanchaà polishing his craft online
The Things That Are In My Head.
offbeat words for you...
Just writing what's on my mind
AS HUMILDES OPINIÕES DE UMA MULHER DE CORAGEM QUE DIZ SIM À VIDA!
And so it goes...
My journey through photography
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Philosophy is all about being curious, asking basic questions. And it can be fun!
Not a literary magazine for ordinary times, but a journal for an exceptional one. Writing the pandemic, together. Image, Somewhere in Time by Hengki Lee: Instagram @hengki_lee
Running in the slow lane
It started as a 366 - now a regular Photoblog- just for the love of taking photos and sharing them.
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Promoting mindful living
A r t w o r k . . . f r o m . . . . . . H a m b u r g . . . . . . . . . . . . . G e r m a n y
October and November 2019
"Words are all we have" Samuel Beckett.
sharing the stories of interconnection
Jottings of a Storyhound
Anita Dawes & Jaye Marie
What a beautiful morning end of day
I love watching those moments of change. They don’t last long and it’s easy to miss the change in the light that means either night or day has slipped away.
Yes, my favorite times of day
Mine too, I think 🙂
Those ephemeral moments in every day are our gift for living
They help smooth over a lot of the other stuff.
Yes, I so agree.
🙂
🙂
Beautiful poem, Jane. It’s like a lullaby, but kind of bittersweet–those fleeting moments.
Thank you 🙂 I know what you mean. Time passing is always bittersweet.
Yes. And dusk more than dawn.
True. At least the day is ahead at dawn.