There’s a decisive moment
Between light and dark,
An intermission of clear sight
When movement becomes illusion.
For light does not hold still
But converges to a hundred shapes,
Fields, haystacks, cathedral portals,
A dizzy dervish, constant change,
Finally softened by slithering shadows
Of dusk.
A tempered darkliness folding
Into moon-glow pillow clouds,
Creating their own impressions.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 5:17 AM UTC
There’s a decisive moment
Between light and dark,
An intermission of clear sight
When movement becomes illusion.
For light does not hold still
But converges to a hundred shapes,
Fields, haystacks, cathedral portals,
A dizzy dervish, constant change,
Finally softened by slithering shadows
Of dusk.
A tempered darkliness folding
Into moon-glow pillow clouds,
Creating their own impressions.