Twilight Hour
under my feet the grass so lush and green
feel I a gentle quiver
be this the very breath of creation
a silent yet resounding PRESENCE
the twilight hour
the horizon in tones of magenta
a momentary magic
strokes of gray
the day so willingly surrenders
the day so willingly surrenders.
Rose Marie Raccioppi
Poet Laureate
Orangetiwn, New York
1 comment:
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