Sun crackles in the blue reserved hill.
by Sandra Fowler
One lone leaf glitters eerily of chill.
The sky looks grosgrain from my window sill.
The vastness of hill country in a leaf
Dances beyond the span of all belief,
The splendor of its memory is brief.
You may not want to hear it when I say
That earth is in the twilight of its day.
The depth of it is drinking us away.
A cloud is distant parchment in the sky.
Today's boat is a shadow sailing by.
Minutes will never catch it, though they try.
I wish it could be ever sunset, Friend,
That fey instant before all colors blend,
Dusk held at the crescendo of its end.
Title poem of my book, Ever Sunset, Skylark Publications, India