Dusk

the burning red orb
casts its gaze about the land
hard and unblinking
–
ragweed-
my eyes swollen
and gritty

as the sun goes down-
I turn the final pages
of this well worn book
–
a ashen moon-
mist descends
upon the moors

sand hill cranes glide through
frost smoke on a mountain lake
as the day begins
–
coming ashore-
fog blankets
the lighthouse

moonlight in the trees-
silently a cold wind shifts
shadows on the snow
–
long shadows-
the warm wind
walks me home

white on shades of blue-
the day ends as sailors tire
of chasing the wind
–
moonlight-
sailboats crease
the black water

as my eyesight fades
I think I finally see
my destination
–
a grey heron-
motionless in the
standing water

families asunder-
buzzards circling high above
the southwest desert
–
riding the smoke-
wild horses
in the distance

as venus rises
the sun on the horizon
sets the trees aglow
–
western fires-
too soon dowsed
by a deluge of stars

holes in the floorboards-
the regal oak panel door
left hanging askew
–
no longer a home-
dim autumn light
caught in the cobwebs

the lobsterman’s wife
watching the lighthouse at the
dying of the day
–
silent passage-
darkening water
laps the shore