Member-only story
POETRY
Evening — XVII
Bruised and beaten, the day retires,
attended by the sun’s bright fires
the sky ignites in hues of glory,
the scene of ancient playful stories.
Myths expire, sinking low,
into the alpen twilight glow.
Eyes reflect the golden glow
as the time of work retires
for rest and play, energy low
revives again in the dusky fires
that kindle brand new stories:
spontaneity’s glory
begins as time becomes gloriously
open to whatever makes the heart glow:
reading books, telling stories
before the hour to retire
arrives. Every fire
stored up all day is fanned from low.
Within these moments, daylight lowering,
ethereal dust in all its glory
writes its name with fiery
fingers upon the glowering
setting sun, who with a groan retiring
relinquishes his place in the story.
