Dusk IV

As night slips into the velvet 

jacket of fir, sun stalks through corn 

fields straining to catch the last golden rods

of August’s waning benefaction 

A flitting flutter, rustling air

settling onto the inky perch 

draws my eyes to the dusky hemline 

of day’s chemise -- stirs within me 

A recognition: passion’s bough 

however tenuous a branch 

is life’s hedge, hearth to heart’s 

urge to be somewhere when darkness falls.  

Ken e Bujold

Author's Note

thanks to W Munn for insights leading to slight modification of 2nd V

Reviews

[Neville]

............................................ intoxicating my friend .. Neville

[Ken Simm.]

With the exception of a strange warm wind that is exactly a portrait of what I can see.

[Ken e Bujold]

with poet's license, other than the cornfields, it is what i see most nights.

[W. Barrett Munn]

A masterful work, Ken. I get vibes of D.H. Lawrence with overtones of perhaps ?
I find this to be one of your finest and sent you a message. Terrific work, friend.

Winston