Evening
Liz McClure
“I warm’d both hands before the fire of Life;
It sinks; and I am ready to depart.”
- Walter Savage Landor
Sharp-bladed hills reach to slice
The sun from the tightening sky.
Layers of color peel away like
Translucent tiers of onion skin,
Before an opaque dusk ascends
Like a prayer shawl drawn around
The hunched shoulders of the valley.
The West fades until its last glowing
Embers leave nothing but a
Faint residue of
Warmth.
|
