Dusk.

Fog lies
beyond the dark persimmon tree
in the dissolved visor
within the glide of midnight tears.
I see it in the chittering
of ice ponds, where it creeps
by the twilit sleep
in present ghost landscapes
slipping in the distance of our protesting minds
loneliness folds on our words.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

27 responses to “Dusk.”

  1. Fog is a great muse! The loneliness makes me wonder if the voice is dealing with a loss, to death, and grieving. Yet I will not feign to understand all the symbolism, wanted to say simply the haunting quality of the symbolism presented through the poem sticks with me. Very strong imagery.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. “slipping in the distance of our protesting minds
    loneliness folds on our words.”
    This is exactly how I feel about sleep, a protesting mind put to silence. Great poem Lucy , beautiful imagery !

    Liked by 1 person

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