The Rising of the Dusk
The Rising Of The Dusk
a hurry home hour
this sill of winter
just one step away from
the revealing white of snow.
a change
surreptitiously invades the way,
as landscape morphs
before a weary traveller trudging there
dusk a preamble to the dark of night.
seemingly it rises from the ground
and clings to shapes of tree and rock
whose bright face remains to the west.
a silent battle ensues between.
trees become their skeletal nemesis.
long branches, grasping fingers
clacking in the cold air that filters through
bent and twisted bodies
bare of softening silken green
boulders could be the hunched
shoulders of ancient ogres
cursed long ago, by Merlin,
buried by the wayside they once
hunted for lone travellers at sun down.
The rising dusk is the progenitor of
many tales told from inn to home.
cautionary stories about the difference
brought on by the coming of dark.
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