Magic Dusk

I watched --

dandelions waltz

tips of yellow grain

blowing kisses 

to the hum of a dragon fly,

rays of sun waving 

their goodbyes

across darkening ripples of pond

stirred by the swirl 

of two lovers

dreaming beneath the surface.

An amber glaze of misting dew

settled on this scene divine,

where past and present, 

future rhyme,

to find a place outside of time.   

As a cricket finely tuned his bow,

to a ribbon of cloud

blushing over the rising 

crescent moon, and

a formation of geese signaled 

the second show,

an evening stroke of the Master’s brush

paused, as if to share 

in this magic dusk.

 

Author's Note