In search of story

August 22.21: Coping


In the time of two breaths

there’s the twilight sweet spot

when everything hovers

between color and not.

White becomes silver

as shadows unfurl,

or maybe it’s pewter

or mother-of-pearl;

reds turn to velvet

with lavender nap,

blues, cupric sulfate,

with diamond wrap.

Yellows to brass

with gold overlays,

burnished in hot coal,

smoldering blaze.

And a palette is born

each day at its end

that no words can capture

but only pretend.



12 thoughts on “August 22.21: Coping

  1. We just watched a scene like this last night. Rapidly changing, subtle and not. You describe it so well.

  2. 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 Beautiful! We have several varieties of hydrangeas, some go from green to white, some blue, some white to pink, and they are all beautiful. Love this post!

  3. Robert Frost himself would’ve loved this poem.

  4. My words are inadequate to explain the awesomeness of this. You are incredible

  5. Your poem proved itself wrong and wonderfully so.

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