Day is over
work done for the busy
The sun sets upon the dusty landscape.
Trudging through the fields
Sweat of the brow
Backs still bent, they walk.
A scarecrow stretches his corn stalk arms and stares
A raven caws as is his fashion
Near is the nighttime with its dark temple of midnight.
A strange fragrance blows across my nostrils
Sweet, spicy, bold
the breath of summer seeking completion
Fall descends with the orange moon.
Night warps the earth with its cloak of silence
A coverlet of sleep.
Copyright (C) 2009 desertwalker All rights reserved.
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YIKES Desertwalker,
ReplyDeleteI love this poem The Dark Temple of Midnight. The Last stanza is POWERFUL! Thank you for sharing such an evocative poem!