In the Dying Embers, Release
Clouds decay in a seamless fading sky,
wisps so finely scattered high,
the sun at its zenith pales the blue gradation,
white streaks of cloudless inspiration,
like lines drawn in crayon white,
ignite as gold embers halo edges,
the sun’s parochial touch.
From deep blue horizon to fading blue,
the hues are endless, each phase so new,
as day cascades in time’s favor,
from stark midday, to golden trails
as the gloaming assumes the distance,
and waning sun in orange persistence
radiates in fan-like plumes.
As mocking larks and swallows swoop,
catching insects in swarming feast,
their silhouettes so precise and neat
against that changing sky,
and as it evolves, one door closes
the other opens wide,
as night introduces another shade of right.
From orange blue and purple too,
studded hues in curtain’s close
are drawn across the day’s sweet end
as light begin to twinkle, propose,
the moon ascends a sun pretense,
to illuminate the day’s lament
and mark a just repose.
And as the light of day does fall,
and stars recall their ancient spell,
the depth of night is a heart enthralled,
a wonder to be seen and felt,
as we gaze into a universe of life,
swirling, turning, burning plights in awe
of all that life inspires.
A chill attests the sun now gone,
a breeze like an end of day release,
as quiet becomes the lands of life,
mesmerized by a luminous moon receipt,
a calming pale blue treat,
as strife fades to rested minds,
and slumber finds a path of sweet abyss.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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Oh so lovely. Your great imagery makes me feel one with the heavens and universe. Beautiful work, Tony. Be well, take care.
PS: Check stanza 3, line 6, and line 7 (shade of right or light?). Possible edit?
Glad you enjoyed Phyllis. I used right to infer the perfection of nature in hue and nuance and the previous line I mistakenly typed open instead of other. Silly moi. There’s always something. thanks for that. Cheers!