Afterglow

After sunset – and before the night -

when red tinged purple fills the dome of sky,

one can trace the imperceptible change of light

from the faded golden promise of sun on high

to the east where the black creeps in.

But not to signify the end.

Change it is that draws our eye from that mystic silhouette,

where all somber ochered hues have reached blackened fingers

against the grieving evening – ahh! sad nostalgia is that color, wet.

For night too signifies the friend

that gave us the diamond brilliance of black velvet

strewn with baubles of stars

                                                                                   and then the moon.

have posted this poem before but it fits this photograph well