Frost laces the earth —
a quiet diamond veil,
whispers of smoke rise,
spilling through the breath of trees.

Snow, soft as forgotten dreams,
drifts over stones, over roots,
its silence pressing close,
like a hand on the chest of night.

The wind, thin and sharp,
skims the hollow of the hills,
pulling shadows into its folds,
sewing the moon into the bones of the sky.

Bare branches stretch,
clawing toward a distant sun,
their fingers white and brittle,
writing cold prayers in the dark air.

Below, a river sleeps —
its pulse muted,
veiled under ice,
the valley cradles it in a long, slow sigh.

In the pause between seasons,
we linger —
half-light and half-shadow,
breathing the fragile quiet of winter,
waiting for what is to come.

The day commences, towards its end,
Twilight faced across the sky.
A cold night surges, unyielding to bend,
As the radiant hope, so high.

The warmth fades, no hope to subdue,
gloom rises through the skyline.
The pack returns for curfew,
Beneath stars that calmly shine.

twilight and the night animals spit raw
it's their time

timid by day   held under spell
now their time   to hold a great red court

We usually say
"step into the light"
when there's
nothing but night
But do we say
"step into the night"
when the light
is so bright
that it not only blinds
but burns out our eyes?

When extremist's
play their games
to blind our
sensitive eyes
it doesn't matter
if they're using
darkness or light

It's all the same
if you're snowblind
or just left alone
in the dark
Whether it's
viral or bacterial
it's still an infection

Feeling our way
in the heavy black air
too thick to breathe
Fumbling around
in the light gray air
too thin to breathe

Caught in the loop of
groping the walls of our
minds in twilight
Struggling to refocus
in moonlight
Then so exhausted
by daybreak
that we sleep it all off
until dusk

Too much darkness
Too much light
Too much cold
Too much heat
Too much pleasure
Too much pain
Too much sunshine
Too much rain
You can have too little
or too much of anything.

Just one fleeting glance at you, yet the timeless Earth,
With the deep red roses, holds its breath in awe of your worth.
Daylight and twilight weave together, lost in your spell,
How could I ever describe your beauty? No words could tell.

Shape my heart as you will, so it mirrors your light,
A reflection of your endless grace, so pure, so bright.
See yourself, just once, through your own lovely eyes,
Just how stunningly beautiful you are—beyond the skies.

No more shall I seek to linger on the silken loop of stars,
Nor will I play at dice in the moonlit, burning woods.
"Let it remain unsung"—the cuckoo’s sweet and lilting refrain;
Lend me but a fleeting shadow to soothe my weary soul.

At dawn’s tender crack, I will wander to the edge of the fading night,
Where the first light spills gently through its shimmering seam.
And though the day may falter, and twilight weep its soft return,
Grant me but a shade beneath the mole of your verdant grove.

The Clock has gone to bed
So have the Bell and Chime
And such has ceased all hours to pass
Beyond the boundary of Time.

The Twilight holds you — tender
To cheek you turned to foe
And so now becomes forever,
The Ox becomes a Doe.

O, Heart as gentle as the nascent Fawn
Who gets lost on familiar paths:
"If only to reminisce" — it jests
"Or chance upon greener grass."