Civil Twilight
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although weightless beyond skyline’s phases
visibly mirroring iridescent dew--
there is something soft about the blue-yellow
of twilight, like a meditation of fragile
chorale from swallows wafting along thin
outlines, minutes between dusk and sunrise…
low fire. warm joy. cozy beds.
and so, as moonglow wanes vanishes
bequeathing its crown to early dawn ,
we nourish the pulp of eve's honey
that twirls on a filmy carousel of regret
or perhaps, answered promises.,
for when eve’s dreams are gone, undone
we reach them within twilight’s embrace.
Dated 3/03/2018
For Pick a Title--Free Verse of Edward Ibeh
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2019
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