At the Ending of the Day

In the lavender tinged shadows of October’s gauzy haze,
when the light is softly slipping at the ending of the day,
memories from the long ago have a sure and gentle way
to stoke a dying ember into a steady glowing ray.

The seasons past, as now recalled, know little of regret,
for though the footsteps faltered, the path was surely set
by a strong and mighty hand and a thorn-strung coronet
that forgave our every stumble without counting up the debt.

Oh sure, it is the twilight that invites such reverie,
for we too often weave our dreams with a fragile stitchery,
Sometimes the breeze is all it takes to come and set them free,
Sometimes that’s all it takes to make them fall to thievery.

Even after darkest times when unsure steps would stray,
there is a peace that brings us rest as shadows softly play,
This precious time, like whispered rhyme that doubts do not betray,
is the treasure that we garner at the ending of the day.

Shadows at Twilight

a far away look blends

yesterday and tomorrow


in the haze of day’s ending

we see without seeing

we know without knowing

and there in the shadows

we are without being


This poem was inspired by a painting on Doodlewash.

Doodlewash is a go to site for me.  Both the paintings and the writing
set my muse to dancing.  In fact, in this instance it was the title of the
painting that most inspired.  “Shadows in Mulled Wine”  Now there is a line
that would launch a thousand poems.  Since my conscience would not
allow me to borrow the title verbatim,  I let it lead me and it led me to
the title of this poem  “Shadows at Twilight”, which in turn led my pen
to spill the words of this poem.

Touching the Moon

Touching the moon
is more a case of faith
than great technique.
It’s not how close you get,
but how you mend the distance.

Reverie, like guttering candles,
makes brief shadows.
Once the spark is spent,
the faint scent is remembered.

On the days this world
turns us a cold shoulder,
All our gold doesn’t count for much.
It is not what we hold that warms our hearts,
but only what we touch.

Preoccupied with Light

Suddenly an insight,
It matters less that I
will never snorkel Galapagos.

No need for bonfires,
limbs are bare. Fireflies
pack it in without complaint.

In October, days grow shorter.
Shadows seem to follow night, Still
starlight wets my face with wonder.

Clouds and waning sun bewilder,
I dream of making candles
out of moonlight.



Odd that a person
could stumble full circle
back to a door
they hadn’t seen
first time around

The passage narrowed now
but still wide enough
to give us room
to choose

Ever babes, we wobble
Each bruise a learning thing
until suddenly we discover
instead of crawling
we walk on steady feet
with purpose sure.


The Peaceful Pub Poetry Blog has added The Challenge Forum.  This poem was written in response to the first challenge offered there.  Hope you will check it out and take part.