Serene Sunset
When the sky speaks to you and you can only answer with your own words that provide just a smattering of the feeling its presence evoked
Trees zip past and we roll over the hills;
High hedgerows are clustered and laced with cow parsley,
Disappearing into clumps as the dusk rises to claim them.
Green lumps, richly moist, richly fertile, bask in lowering light.
The sky is bluest blue, like a baby's blanket spread,
But gradually peach clouds of the finest fleece
Enfold the day, and their persistent cosseting
Is rippling the heavens into dappled stripes
Of harmonious beauty that startle my eyes
With their glory. A thin spire skewers the magnificent light;
It has long since pierced the naval of the sun god
With its earthly wrought black point and stands tall,
savouring its Impressionist background of dabs.
It has a power, above the town as its bell sounds,
But the sky is trumping its architectural spire tonight.
It is serene, this sunset and as I head towards it
And it sinks behind the zigzag of roofs and smoking stacks
Of George and George and George and the golden stone
Wrenched and picked and axed from its bed,
I am overwhelmed: by beauty; by nature; by love.
My heart is warm and my eyes are full.
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Comments (10)
Beautiful!!! I love the imagery and peacefulness this poem brought me!! Great work Rachel!!
What a pleasant read! Could picture the sky’s transformation with each line
Wonderful, Rachel. The imagery is astounding!
Wow, I could feel it in this poem, this wonderfully undescribable ambience that I've always considered uniquely British. You have just described it!
So lovely. I didn't get all the Georges though?
You painted such a beautiful picture with your words! Loved your poem!
Your wordplay is next level, Rachel!
You are truly a wonderful poet, Rachel.
Beautifully descriptive. Well done.
Cosseting, my new word of the day.