Silence morphs the call of falling dusk
Gathering under fiery skies, 
Stilled leaves in somber silence hang
Moping at the darkness that plies.

Dusty paths the home-bound cattle plod
Syrupy chirping of birds in flight, 
Smoke from the earthen ovens pause
Wistfully staring at twilight.

Frenzied bats eke out their weary awls
Urging the evening star to wait, 
To let moon lord overnight, 
And muse over their morbid fate.

Wind over the placid river brings
Low tidings for cicadas to cry, 
Fathom the fragrant moonflower will
Need endeavour to pacify.

When vigil of stark skeletal boughs
Stand mournful over the hooting owl, 
And the mist like a wimple veils
The nocturnal creatures that prowl.

Those who lie in cemeteries stark
Berate the mausoleums old, 
Affording them scant room to move
Adding to their ordeals untold. 

Crimson dawn will pale the darkened sky
For light to lug another day, 
Darkness would need wait again
For dusk to come upon its way. 

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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Date: 5/31/2017 10:16:00 AM
Oh, I wish I could paint with words like this. This is beautiful. I live in an area with bats, moonflower, owls and home-bound cattle. This one struck home.
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Amar Agarwala
Date: 6/1/2017 8:28:00 PM
Dear Dean, So glad that you read and liked these verses. You are indeed blessed that you live in a place that my poem describes. How I wish, I too could live amidst such serene wilderness. Since I cannot, I let my imagination do it. Best Always!