Twilight
The time of day to power a poet's fancy
Is that delay between the 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,
The twilight chases burdens of the daytime,
And gives us sweet respite from daily care
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.
This half-light often brings quixotic dreaming,
Lulling noisy birds to join the quietude.
A gift from God for those of lonely spirit,
Bestowed on them to bless their solitude.
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