In the Gloaming
This mystic time the poets call the gloaming,
A lingering salute to end of day,
Comes long enough to usher in the nighttime
And welcome in the moon and star display.
written 7/18/19
For Arbitrium Divisa 3 poetry contest
Sponsor Gregory E. Barden
Taken from my poem "Twilight" Posted March 21 2005
Twilight
The time of day to power a poet's fancy,
Are those short moments between day and night,
When rosy glows streak in the west horizon.
That lovely interlude we call twilight.
Somewhere between the daylight and the darkness,
The remnants of the sun still hanging there.
Erasing heavy burdens of the daytime,
Removing all the weariness and care.
The mystic time the poets call the gloaming,
This lingering salute to end of day,
Comes lonr enough to usher in the nightfall
And welcome in the moon and stars display.
The half-light often brings quixotic dreaming,
Even lulling birds and beasts to quietude.
This respite is God's gift for lonely spirits,
Bestowed on them to bless their solitude.
By Joyce
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