Evening’s dusk, eerie forebodings,
Making one feel so insecure,
Blotting out distance, shapes of things,
Creating a scene, too obscure,
Shadows that hide the strange unknown,
Lurking when you are out alone.
Evening’s dusk creeps across the sky,
Twelve hours of night has just begun.
Moon hanging motionless up high,
Reflecting light, from earth’s own sun,
Lighting darkness with borrowed rays,
Lifting the black in many ways.
Evening’s dusk, rest for man, not beast,
Off to our homes, we go to rest,
All the days noise has slowly, ceased,
Animals though are on a quest,
For their nuptials they find at night,
When humans are well out of sight.
A very atmospheric poem Ernestine, the work of a master poet. Love, Andrew xx
Sets a spooky mood. Might have to check the locks on the doors before I go to bed tonight... -chuck
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You are so right it can be an eerie time and to even arrive home to an empty house at dusk can be a little frightening. Your work is always a pleasure to read and has the right ingredients for what is intended and you always make masterpieces with your poems. 10 Karin Anderson