The light lowers as it passes from east to west,
Orange glow diffusing from earth to grass to flower.
Daises turn and stretch and bask in the early evening.
The morning glories, wide-spread under the light
And entwined along the clover held picket fence
Have turned from magenta to amethyst to their
Last white-veined violet. Even it now grows faint.
The petals curl inward, the blue tips bend
Toward the bluer heart and the flowers are lost.
The moonflower-buds are still white, but shadows dart
From their tendril-roots, black creeps from lawn to fence,
To plants, then slowly over me. Another work worn day
Without you fades with my dirty fingers and sips of beer.
Each leaf shadow cuts another leaf shadow on the grass,
I watch as shadow seeks shadow, golden turns to black,
Then both leaf and leaf-shadow are lost, and I am alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Evening - a reader catcher work indeed. the power of nightfall into the soul of the poet very well put in verses.