How quickly it becomes dark in winter,
Twilight squeezed out between gray afternoons
And the ever encroaching night,
That swoops quickly,to descend,
In ever quickening moves
Gathering onto itself the faded colors
Coating the trees, structures in its own shades
As the trees hold up their branches
In stark contrast
And the passing brush, melds,rests
In night's dark embrace,
That gathers all,into it's fold
Humming it's own silent lullaby.
--© shubha
No comments:
Post a Comment