You sit in the twilight of a life
that is yet in the late afternoon.
The darkness you fear ...
is but a shadow
cast by late summer clouds.
The wheeling ravens
you imagine ...
Only brittle leaves
blowing in a steady breeze.
Do not depart
the pleasant porch
sooner than you must.
The falling sun
will paint the sky
in colors
unseen at midday.
YOU ARE READING
Looking at Yesterday
PoetryA collection of musings on our collective journey. [Note: I am moving some of my previously published standalone items into this collection.]
