Apogee
A wedge of moon
persists in a cobalt sky,
as light fractures itself,
splaying its fingers
through the reluctant dark,
soon to be gone.
Black lace filaments
on licorice black trees
dangle their dainty digits
in a waning wind.
Hushed and shy is dawn
as she adjusts her
flamenco skirts
to brush the morning sky.
Not night now,
but not quiet full of day,
teetering, give - take
until day at last wins.
And in that apogee
that is not one or other,
does time stop
and take a breath, pulling
itself back into
its cycle eager to go on?
Copyright © Sherry Asbury | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment