Inked

The bright cloudless sky inked an indigo stain. It wrung from the east losing pigment as it grew.

The creeping color stretched out until a smooth smoky lavender, stalled on the Western expanse. The day now spent completed its transition. The balance of light shifted to dusk.

The sunless sky now ravenous devoured the cotton-candy sunset revealing Jupiter and Mars; who patiently waited for the moon to crest in its crimson glory.

The lighted globe tabled on the horizon, like a diver trying to reach the surface it began to climb.

The passing of time set a cadence to its path, and soon the crimson blaze paled to a luminous glow.

Fog gently ascended from every alcove and crevice coating the night in a milky haze.

Autumn’s wheat once vibrant with green had come full journey. Throwing off its full stocks of green, to a slender gold. Finally it captured my attention as the generously painted fields of wheat bent and swayed in rich auburn tones.

The crackling of autumn’s litter now subject to the wind, protested loudly to it new course breaking up the silence of night and I smiled at its simplicity.

https://youtu.be/DxghA6uuSGY

Author's Note

https://youtu.be/DxghA6uuSGY

Reviews

[William Michael Reeves]

Here it is. Now I'm going to read and listen if I can. I really like this poem. Especially the sunless sky stanza. A lot of Your poetry lives in the stars it seems. Love it!

[Cherrie Palmer]

I spent many years working on the midnight shift and find the night sky very peaceful.

[emmajoy]

' The lighted globe tabled on the horizon, like a diver trying to reach the surface it began to climb.'

It's how it is when slowly surfacing from mid depth to surface, colour bec ome stronger even though faint.. same applies when looking into distant mist.. but reversed. Perhaps.

So much colour in your words,r, y et faintly, looming, whispering.. luring - in other words, for me, a carpet of magic, driftinggently to and from.. leaving enough time to look.. almost touch. Is that what I mean;? Maybe n 3D bending its v riety of colours in such a way that one sees the colour most enjoyed.. at that moment. Think i've said all that poorly. Cherrie, sorry. To use common parlance, this is subtle, not 'in your face ' reality

[Robert Trakofler]

This is a poem not a story or it is at least a poetic story or would it be just prose its not iambic but... good god I don't know what it is:) But it is lovely I love how you guided me thru the motions of movement in here and painted the scenes. Ah Ha, that's what this is... it's a Mon Cherrie! I would buy any book you wrote when the story starts like this!

[Cherrie Palmer]

On my way home a couple of weeks ago I noticed the sunset. I remember thinking it looked like cotton candy. A snall wall cloud loomed over it, and between the setting sun and drifting cloud it looked like the sky ate it ( how many likes does it take to get to thecenter of a sunset?)
Anywho, it just kept dancing around my head till I wrote it down.
I'm pleased to share it with you.
:)
Why is it a writer never just sees a thing? To us there is always more to it as we see it with our imagination.

[Cherrie Palmer]

Possibly I've read Walton to many times.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

nice when someone can still smile at simplicity in this world...
the combination of your personification, wonderful imagery and beautiful simile is startling in this short piece.
j.

[Cherrie Palmer]

:)Thank you

[jacob erin-cilberto]

no, thank you, Cherrie...your writes are always a joy to read....