A few remnants of fugitive heat left behind in the earth,
The merciless, desert sun gathers dust with little mirth.
A livid red line on the horizon, sitting there like a scar,
A final wink of the sun before making room for a star.
A riot of birds in the trees sing, making much clatter,
Discussing the day’s events in their relentless chatter.
A holy silence seems to descend with the trailing sun,
Leaving behind the mystery of night, second to none.
Thin lines of smoke write signatures in a distant fire
The sun finally disappears with a quick wink to inspire
The wind howled in spirals chasing itself as dust devils,
Dream smoke misted, raising the mind to higher levels.
A careless person will not see what he never looks for;
Close your eyes and awaken, to see what lies in store.
This poem is akin to a quasar from a distant galaxy, although it appears far away, I can see it feel it hear it in my bones and the astute visual imagery is evocative of a mirage in the desert; from spiraling winds chasing "dust devils, to dreamy "misted" smoke, to the winking sun "making room for a star" and for this I too am inspired to "close my eyes and awaken."
I once read that we often hear what we listen for, and see what we look for, hence as the poem dictates: "A careless person will not see what he never looks for..." Well, I see this tasty morsel of artistry clearly, and it is forever imbedded in my memory; an emotive work of literature. Bravo!
Those last moments of the day! The way you write about "A riot of birds in the trees sing, making much clatter," to be continued at dawn I'm sure. Your imagery is just toooooo wonderful!!!!! 'Enjoyed!
The title phrase is a poem in itself. I really love the way you treated this subject from the viewpoint of the stark desert. Making me wonder why you posted that photo of what looks like the Western United States.
One of your better works looking into what the transition from day to night means for those living in the desert.
You have your eyes wide open to be able to appreciate and write about nature. I love the colors and phrases you use. "A final wink of the sun" is one of them. This what elevates poetry from mere words to the sublime.
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I once read that we often hear what we listen for, and see what we look for, hence as the poem dictates: "A careless person will not see what he never looks for..." Well, I see this tasty morsel of artistry clearly, and it is forever imbedded in my memory; an emotive work of literature. Bravo!
Love ya!
Jane
"A careless person will not see what he never looks for:"
One of your better works looking into what the transition from day to night means for those living in the desert.
Ron
to moon rise,
the words you write,
are certainly wise.