at sunset


the sky in manifold scenes – painterly
overhead, slate hankies frayed by the winds;
to the west behind the darkened houses
day still, like a fire burning a village;
opposite, night has already settled accounts.

it declines of course
‘But so quick,’ you say.
sans meaning (sans us) it’s all just spectacle
wavelengths refracting away.

salmon and apricot ease through
grey-blue into charcoal. Offshore
the massed clouds are white, no pearl
distant in a deeper blue.

Image: Summer Morning 1916, By Elioth Gruner c/- Wikimedia Commons,  Not quite a nature poem but it was one of those spectacular evenings yesterday.  Thanks for reading…

18 April 20.

And you can’t go past Eric Satie for great writing music (or music to lie on the floor with your eyes closed).

3 thoughts on “at sunset

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