Evening

Words are a wonderful thing.  Some words are more than one at the same time.  Some times need more than one word.  


Evening

Evening rolls in, evening out the cloud-wrinkled colors left by a past breaking dawn;

The end of a broken day.  

--Painted high, with ivory and gold, a day breaks every day  

But breaks as into song; not shattered pieces to mourn.

Evening rolls in; not breaking.  Relieving the fingers of day.  

Releasing its dutiful grasp on the sky.

And the stars seem to jingle like so many bells; 

Dusty bells on deep blankets of untroubled night.

Brooms of dark trees sweep stardust from the sky

As the moon stirs a spoonful of midnight on the horizon.

Here I looked for His tender mercies: In the comets; the tears of the stars.

Oh! The lenses and the light! Must silence be so dark a word?  

Here I began to see the iron path.

Here I came to believe in angels.