Drifting clouds, painted glory, fade with the day’s death.
Only streaks remain, expended filaments of sunset.
The breeze is faint, but open, still a divine catharsis,
Though the whispers seem to retreat with the light.
Slate rocks find a quickened pace, forced by the transition.
The trees’ creak, the shadows seek, to find the mind,
Racing beyond the hindered sight of that which may be,
Dragging even the smallest bête noirs before the candle’s throw
Then darkness, mystery issues from every nook.
Faustian thoughts to find power and peace.
Time is the torture, for this is only the beginning
Of the time between dusk and dawn.
Inspired by the contest “Beyond Nightfall!” sponsored by Laura Mckenzie.
Copyright © Beau Regard