A Magical Time
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Liquid ebony pools
in the shadows of night.
And behind purple clouds,
a scarlet sun sheds light.
A cauldron of black bats
eclipses a gold moon.
And traverses a sky
of sable and maroon.
Dusk buffs, green canopies
to a shadowy sheen.
And consolations form,
where only time has been.
Shrouded in ghostly mist
deprived of light, plants weep.
And their tears morph into
drops of dew as we sleep.
Night's a magical time
that is dear to my heart.
And it's to be savored;
like good wine or fine art.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2023
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