As our sun sets, <br />our moon, <br />a citrus segment, <br />halfway to whole, <br />rises, on a <br />now retiring world. <br /> <br />Its warm amber glow <br />softens, calms, it’s <br />blush of orange, creeps <br />covers, warms, comforts; <br />it illuminates our view. <br /> <br />Days noise and bustle <br />lessens, stars appear, <br />moon now a silver piece, <br />brings nightfall, a peace, <br />a gentle whispered calm. <br /> <br />A stillness wrapped up <br />in starlight and secured <br />by moonbeams, has <br />no threatening shadows, <br />no noisy rising wants. <br /> <br />An empty mind holds no <br />sorrows, fears, concerns <br />or worries. With no thoughts, <br />it embraces a golden silence, <br />that soothes and heals our <br />still anxious, troubled World. <br /> <br /> <br />08-05-2009<br /><br />Bob Blackwell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-days-end-3/
