A Walk at Dusk

I walked and saw the orange sun set

and I wanted to write it’s colour to the page

that burnt flame dying low toward

another world

I walked in the graying day

toward twilight’s birth

and felt the subtle damp

begin to lift

a mossy thickness wrapped round

my head

these feelings were meant

for ink and old wood pulp

I walked past moving stream

low down still fast but slowing

anticipating summer’s heat

while in the grassy banks

preternatural shadows

flowed beneath the blades
waiting for the night

all this I wanted to express

in letters, meter and rhythm

but

the words would not come

and now these things

resign thmeselves to pensive

memory – perhaps to be

forgotten.

perhaps not…

Harnessing Chaos