Evening – I

April 1, 2017

The heavy breath of afternoon lifted,
Cool wind and light begin to sing
And the world a last pageant creates
Before the darkness comes rolling in.

On the street people stroll
With no purpose but the air to eat
Or to chant quiet incantations
To whatever God to whom they dream.

Under the tree watching the shadows grow
Creating shapes of spires and domes
That ring with the orioles and hummingbirds rapture
As the shutters of the evening begin to close.

Skies bleed from orange to red
And the sun belies his weakness with hot flames
Turning all to shadows and then all to dark
One brush to paint, one song to sing, no variation remains.