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
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