Receding Day

The light is fleeing to the night

All that is left are the bones of trees

A skulking fenceline,

The faint breath of the moon,

Receding pastels of a summer day.

The hill beyond has turned its shoulder;

It slumbers, humped and heavy, a faint line.

Let it stop now so that the cherry will always

Be the spirit of movement, and a town’s light

Begin to sparkle and beckon.

The wind creeps in and a drape falls – darkness

And a dog calls – a high howl – and pulls tight on the chain, eyes wide and full of longing

4 Responsesso far.

  1. Mark Prisco Mark Prisco says:

    hi John, agree with Susannah. evocative, and that dog longing…

  2. peterlebaige peterlebaige says:

    ‘faint breath of the moon’ beautiful description, John, and yes, the hill with its turning shoulder.

  3. john keast john keast says:

    Thanks for reading, Susannah

  4. Marvellous imagery! ‘The hill beyond has turned its shoulder’ – as they do!

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