Patricia Cresswell Poet Free verse

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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John Fleming October 30, 2017 at 9:19 PM Perfect reading for me sat here next to a deserted train track with a ham and cheese sandwich in one hand and a mug of tea in t'other -- and that damned owl!! As you once remarked, Patricia -- the bl..dy things seem to do it on purpose! My very warmest regards this chilly night. :) john

Russell Sivey October 30, 2017 at 6:44 PM This is special write about the oncoming darkness that becomes evident at dusk! You write is quite descriptive and rich with varied imagery, that which I love immensely! You have painted a beautiful scene of the coming night, and all the nature that surrounds it! What a brilliant piece, Great Work!!

Vijay Pandit October 30, 2017 at 3:41 PM You depict such awesome imagery in your poems--the rising dusk painted through such minute observations!