Nightfall
Nightfall

A Poem of Hope

Photo by Beth Bruno

The sun god retreats

to his chamber,

draws the brocade curtains —

a tapestry of pinks sewn with

threads of violet,

embroidered with gold.

Hens clucking softly

as they go to their roost,

occasionally flapping and squabbling.

Everyone wants the window seat.

Neighbor playing mariachi music,

the volume low

it dances to my ears

and makes me smile.

Dog barks.

Cicadas chirrup, buzz,drone.

Fireflies begin the nightly ritual.

Courtship —

Blink Blink

Blink, Blink, Blink.

Whippoorwill welcomes the dusk.

Plaintive cry, over and over,

as though looking for something

it never finds.

Now, the brocade is fading,

washed too many times,

a remnant of its former splendor.

First stars twinkle.

Or is it the fireflies?

The air is soft and still,

Mosquitoes dine.

Bats dine on the diners.

The cats gaze out into the night.

“Come in and fill our bowl”

they say with their eyes.

Writing by the solar deck lights,

trying to find reasons to believe

in the goodness of life.

Mission accomplished.

Nightfall.
['Beth Bruno']
['Inspiration', 'Life', 'Poetry', 'Mindfulness', 'Hope']