As our sun sets,
our moon,
a citrus segment,
halfway to whole,
rises, on a
now retiring world.
Its warm amber glow
softens, calms, it’s
blush of orange, creeps
covers, warms, comforts;
it illuminates our view.
Days noise and bustle
lessens, stars appear,
moon now a silver piece,
brings nightfall, a peace,
a gentle whispered calm.
A stillness wrapped up
in starlight and secured
by moonbeams, has
no threatening shadows,
no noisy rising wants.
An empty mind holds no
sorrows, fears, concerns
or worries. With no thoughts,
it embraces a golden silence,
that soothes and heals our
still anxious, troubled World.
08-05-2009
Bob Blackwell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-days-end-3/
