At Evening’s Fall

Our words were mesmerised, unable at
each attempt to describe the end of day
the sun took its story – a spectacle of hues and
ribbons between gold fire and greyblack crimsons
beyond Wolumbin – reclining grandmother
crag head facing skyward – omniscient
pausing inbreath grandeur

Taking our gaze, the cloud hummers went westerly
tribal souls migrating in unison
their mentor and guide a following breeze
and curiously the stars appeared above them
as if flying in formation against the trend
missiles or satellites – not afraid – in awe
we saluted the spectacle – swaying in silence and wonder




Martinos © 2018


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