Dusk

Dusk, in spring’s sweet earthly valance
holds the warmth of transition’s scent,
captured twixt winter storm and longing
toward summer’s length and cool rain spent.

Here in motions of vernal push,
burgeoning green and softening soil,
the day draws short in daylight’s linger,
so comes the work of gray’s slow toil,
displacing greens and blues to softness,
dissolved amidst the cooling air,
trees stand stark, reduced to contrast,
silhouette undressed and bare.

The current of the day draws in,
busy wings and souls sit still,
retired from this day’s warm giving,
tasks left behind in sunlight fills
the ledger for tomorrow’s blessing,
regain the rhythm of this changing season.
At dusk, tho’, is kind reprisal,
where silence, honored, requires no reason,
as life finds pause within its will,
between the task and purpose fill.