Dusty rose tints the billowing grey,
And the day bends into the night,
Like blood in water in still time,
Muses whispering a passion play.
And rain rent from drying clouds,
Shimmers crystalline in fading skies,
And rose tints ferment to wine,
As evening robes in darker shrouds.
King Sol, wounded, winces crimson,
And piercing once last the orchid veil,
His shafts of light like bolts extend,
'Til the night-watch prevail, imprison.
As the last embers of day smolder,
And Queen Luna ascends the sky,
Blue light beckons to lovers and poets,
Numinous whispers to every beholder.
And the wolves pine in moonlight howl,
For few sons and daughters of men,
Will gaze skyward with mouth agape,
So miss such beauty as they strowl.
Unknowing.
