Into the Twilight
A Poem About the Nuances of that In-between Time
The raindrops "pit-pitung"ed against the metal drainpipe, tiny gunshots in the silence of the night. It was as though the clouds were sending me Morse codes messages, each dit and dah falling from the sky in a beautiful cacophonous symphony. I wished I could still decode these messages, I'm sure the song would have been entrancing.
The crows swooped and swayed in the sky above, trying out their new maneuvers like fighter pilots. With the coordination of one hundred little dancers, shrieking into the twilight sky, the birds spiraled on and on, into oblivion. Ebbing and flowing in the wind, bobbing and swerving like the hand of a cellist as he brings his notes to life.
I walked on, despite the rain and the swirling wind and the night noises, raising my collar up closer to my neck to protect myself from both the cold and all that I could not see. The nighttime continued to close in, and all I could do was walk on boldly, into the twilight.
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I Am Old, but Spring Is Here
I am old. I feel it in the creaking of my bones, the way the wind whips through me on a cold winter's night. But today it is spring, and the sunshine fills my gaps like a warm orange putty of glowing light. My glasses, usually dim and dull, seem to create their own luminescence... Some of my panes are darkened and opaque, others are translucent and bright, and that Mr. Golden Sun plays my glass like a keyboard, bringing life to what hasn't always been so lifeless. My words are heard at last, shouting my messages in clear white, bold fonts. And that blue sky, oh that multifaceted, sea-turquoise, unreal sky... I've never seen anything like it. Even the rusty parts of my exterior, worn from years and years of weathering, shine pale-white with the overexposure. The ivy that wraps me is no longer gnarled and rough, but instead hugs my curves and is given new depth.
By Jessica Desplenter6 years ago in Poets
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