I wrote this for Colleen’s poetry challenge then realised I’d done it wrong on two counts—it’s a nonette, not an etheree, and I didn’t use synonyms. I’m tired. Here it is anyway, and I’ll write another poem for the challenge. The painting is by Evelyn de Morgan.
Night colour creeps among evening trees,
seeps into the dark ocean green,
filling hollows where the sun
had shone with softest grey.
Dove and pigeon-plumed
night falls silent
as fox pads,