Monday, August 27, 2012

Magical Dusk

The Wordle


we are asked to use all the words in the Wordle


I write from a land where the sun collapses, suddenly, into night;
One moment day, then a speedy fade to darkness from the bright.
But in another, far-off land, dusk lingered on for hours,
As the sun, majestically, slowly, divested itself of its powers.
One could sit in a summer garden where roses climbed the fence
And trace the sun descending in a sky pale and immense.
One of life's essentials was, of course, a glass of wine,
That and a good companion, a recipe for the divine.
One could be forgiven for sensing a link in the chain
Of all the magic of nature, wind and sun and rain.
And one could imagine an operator working the scenery
On a great blue empty stage where the bright sun used to be.
But, at last, after hours of sinking, the sun dips on its way
And the cold night makes an entry, etched in a pencil-grey.
I have seen the sun set many, many, many times,
But I still miss the magic of dusk in those far-off northern climes.

(An Acrostic)

'Geriatric'! What a word!
Really! It is quite absurd!
Old externally I may be
While inside I am just a baby!
Isn't it a crazy thing!
Nature has a definite Spring!
Gardens don't mix-up each season!
Only humans commit this treason!
Letting Spring bloom in the heart
Defying each other Wintry part!

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