The Gloaming

Our back porch faces west,

across a thick wood. When the sun is 

setting just above the horizon, 

it shouts a resounding last call through the trees, 

that streams through the window, 

bounces off the walls, gleams on the cheek. 

There is a crystal prism that adds color to 

the majesty and mystery this room 

has needed all afternoon.

It’s a pinprick instant,

like an old friend who flies in, 

didn’t tell you they were coming, 

and walks through the front door. 

There are other momentary experiences, 

that add a wonderment to the day, 

but only a very few come to mind, 

and then like magic, 

the rabbit under the hat, they’re gone.

The awed flame is extinguished in a flash,

like the match that lit the birthday candles. 

There was a soul sought tangent, 

worked its sorcery, fluttered the heart,

and now the trees are darkening, 

the sky is grey, the room withers, 

shrinks, waits on future twilights.

---

Craig is retired and living in Jacksonville because that’s where his grandchildren are. He loves the aesthetics of writing, has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels, and has been nominated three times for Pushcart. He was recently published in Decadent Review, Chiron Review, The Main Street Rag, Hamilton Stone Review, Glacial Hill Review, 7th-Circle Pyrite, Fairfield Scribe, Fixator, Flora Fiction, Sybil, The Argyle, The Lake, Wise Owl, Poetry Breakfast, Writers Resist, Writers Journal, Rushing thru the Dark, Lothlorien, Sparks of Calliope, Stereo Stories, Dark Winter, Gargoyle Magazine, Vine Leaf Press, Coffee and Conversation, Black Petal, Beatnik Cowboy, About Place, Atrium, Constellations, Confetti, Short Beasts, Literary Journal, Atrium, One Art, Mobius, and work forthcoming at The Main Street Rag, Abstract, Chiron Review, and several dozen others. He houses 500 books in his office and about 400 poems on a laptop. These words tend to keep him straight.