Tuesday, 10 November 2015

On The Shortest Days






On The Shortest Days - Joyce Sutphen 

At almost four in the afternoon, the
wind picks up and sifts through the golden woods.

The tree trunks bronze and redden, branches
on fire in the heavy sky that flickers

with the disappearing sun. I wonder
what I owe the fading day, why I keep

my place at this dark desk by the window
measuring the force of the wind, gauging

how long a certain cloud will hold that pink
edge that even now has slipped into gray?

Quickly the lights are appearing, a lamp
in every window and nests of stars

on the rooftops. Ladders lean against the hills
and people climb, rung by rung, into the night.

2 comments:

  1. We're just trying to find some color in this black and white world.
    Keep on making inspiring article :)
    imarksweb.net
    imarksweb.net

    ReplyDelete
  2. Everything you an imagine is real. Have a good day! Keep on sharing knowledgable ideas :)
    imarksweb.net

    ReplyDelete

I'd love to hear what you think! To leave a comment - comment as/sign in with your Google ID if you have one, or website or blog address, or if these don't apply, sign in as Anonymous, and leave your name if you like!