Twilight was once the worst part of my day. When the empty nest syndrome hit and I stood by the produce counter not knowing how many tomatoes to buy for one, then broke into sobs, twilight was the worst! That was when families were gathering around, I could smell onions sauteeing in other kitchens, then put the key in my lock to go into an empty house. So when I started playing at computers, and though I found the days were very busy, I was indeed in my twilight years, so I adopted the screen name of twilite.

Now I have sweet twilight friends, but don't fault me if I see you in the mornings sometimes.

Tonight, though, I found another delight in twilight. Just after the day and before time to turn on the night lights, the house is clean! It has a softness about it and the clutter becomes muted shades that seem to form art objects on a table. No dust can be seen, and the colors all match. I think a candle is in order.

Also, today I wrote a little poem at twilight while noticing the birds:

I hear the fluting sparrows,
And cello-throated Martins.
A gently sweet violin breeze
Twines through trombone twilight.
As I listen, the bass viol darkness
Creeps through the evening
Like a lurking cat, and
Murmuring roosted pianissimos
Turn beaks under wings in sweet sleep.


So now I can embrace that time of day.


By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)

 


 


 

     
  

 

Speak to Me



When I Think of You



Haiku: Koi and Pond



Fresh Batch



A Fish Tale



A Different Voice ( 5 Authors )



The Presence and Absence of Summer



Studio Portrait ( 12 Authors )



Satin Sheets



Today We Live



Deaf Music



 

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