In dusk when rust of hills is crowned with gold
the veins of rivers fill with blood and rooks
have gathered waiting for the wind to rest.
That’s when you whisper that the world seems cold
and you fear we are close to burn our books,
that fear of shadows make our world depressed.
We’re silent for a while, and watch how rust
is silvered porcelain and as calmness settles
you take my hand, and through its warmth a trust
is building that behind the hills a daylight nestles.
Ten lines written for Kerry’s prompt at toads. I played around a bit with the meter and rhymescheme on this one. Using the poem Ibadan by John Pepper Clark as inspiration I expanded a thought that might be a metaphor of sorts. We need to look for the light also when it’s darkest. I will also link up to Poetry Pantry in the morning.