From an Open Window

the day sings itself into evening

POETRY

the day sings itself into evening

Photo by Gabriel Tenan on Unsplash

The afternoon is waning
with a shimmer of golden sun 
shaking through the trees.
Caught in the heady thralldom of summer,
a blackbird flutes in the alder clump
with a gush of enchanting melody,
awaiting its summons to subdued silence,
while the day sings itself into evening.
Preening their wings for a skyward flight,
innumerable young starlings clove the air,
in a fluttering of untried wings.

Green hills pile themselves 
upon each other’s shoulders,
grim and sullen, after the flush of day.
The rosy-hued sky, widening off into the distance
leaves the deep and solemn purple of the summer night.
The east alone frowns with clouds,
though there is no menace 
in the suede silence of the dusk.
The woods, growing silent with adoration,
absorb the scent and murmur of the brook,
while velvet oozes from between the trees
and peace broods over all.