Winter Evening Poem by James Smith

dull orange purple behind trees made vague
with haloes of ivy
the cold settles in for the early evenings
edging of frost
starlings softly squabble and roost
to end the day
silently above our heads the crows return
to the tallest trees
sounds are clear but a hollow distance
mutes their clarity
soft apple green skies rise over the dusk
to fade in indigo darkness
doors swing to with sounds unnoticed by day
the bats squeak;
behind thick shutters in curtained rooms
I change worlds
and play 'The Art of Fugue' with some mistakes