Dusk when

 

Dusk

when the light is muddied

by the day dragging faded glitter

through the streams of night.

Song flows

a ripple of farewell to the sun

and shadows move from their lairs

beneath the trees.

Light shifts

uncertain as the notes

that rise and fall fading

as feathers settle.

Buttercups hold the last gold

in cupped petals

and all that breathes is hushed

watching the muddied uncertain

shifting light

sigh and sift the silver

of the rising moon.

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Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

10 thoughts on “Dusk when”

  1. I’m catching up after a busy weekend. I’ve just read Merril’s “And So It Goes,” posted close to the same time as this. It’s so interesting to see you posting poetry with thoughts that seem to mirror each other. Especially here with your “muddied uncertain / shifting light / sigh and sift the silver / of the rising moon.” and her “and yet, the shadows / flicker, so come song and light.”

    1. It is strange, and it happens often, especially with the magnetic poetry. Admittedly with the magnets the word choice is limited and the suggestions more obvious, but still…

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