The twilight quietly gives out
And crosses the fold into dusk
The cloak of darkness opens,
and gives up the moon,
and the trail ahead lights up like a glow-worm,
phosphorescent.

Hush.
Only the muffled crunch of rocks in dirt
and the wind buffets the caves of your ears.

I am both things,
the fireplace and the wildfire,
the wine and the nectar,
the strum and the scream,
the stay and the leave,
the comfort and the cold,
the holding and the setting free.

And in being both,
I am neither.

limbo

dusk.

Labels: Poems