The wait at twilight

Now is that moment when the world falls quiet to watch the recusing light.
A progression of purple tints descend the branches and chimneys and electrical wires,
which rise in turn to interrupt the sky as the crispness of their presence fades,
Leaving points of brown or green to linger as precious relics of the day.

The sea color drains from my jacket as I wait under a linden planted long ago
On a pavement being rearranged into its night setting,
Tired neighbors withdrawing vans into garages while the young head out for adventure.
Cats may pop up later to learn there is nothing here for them.
Any prey worth a peripheral glance has already withdrawn into the maples or the gathered warmth of the earth.

The branches seem to get higher and higher,
While in the houses, brightening fixtures speak of evenings to be frequently experienced.

Darkness bring the universe together again.
I know myself to be fulfilled by the oncoming hours.
Endeared, I am patient to watch their arrival.

Clouds now are directing the last rays into the open areas of the town,
As a figure with a familiar gait appears around the corner.
A hint of breeze wakes up the air as humidity makes its exit.
Pending the transition to evening, I can discern everything before me,
Hair splayed over a hand-knit jacket,
While the surroundings are cast in a modest clothing appropriate for reflection.
Finally I leave the shelter of the tree,
And as I walk into the spectral glow I see your smile.

Andy Oram
October 11, 2017

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