Evening's Quiet Poem by james watkin
Evening's Quiet
A room; and refuge from the world.
Tasteful spaciousness.
Where plant can grow in concord, rife
With fertile Thought-life.
A lamp, a wee self - effacing
Blush of graciousness
Primly corner-sat. But shows up
Hands; their slow read. Cup.
All that permits, can but abide
Eve's pious abbess
Of Quiet. Of all a mute-vowed air
Most sensitive. Fair.
Thursday, December 15, 2022
Topic(s) of this poem: air,silence
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4/19/2024 8:12:08 PM # 1.0.0.1119
