The golden hour casts its hue of flaxen,
Stems and buds, primrose, wake from their slumber.
Flaming sun bows to the moonlight, waxen.
Winter’s chill, night bids adieu to summer.
*
Seeds once sown and bloomed in the fertile ground,
Lay silent in soil, resting with secrets,
Nature flows and bows to its mistress, bound,
Lucid dreaming for seasons’ change, sleepless.
*
Where fireflies once flickered in the night,
Silence reins in the stillness and shadow,
Moths flock to the primrose and waning light,
The moon reigns higher in her throne of glow.
*
The tides of time crash like waves on the shore,
As light turns to dark, back to light as before.
About the Creator
E.K. Daniels
Writer, watercolorist, and regular at the restaurant at the end of the universe. Twitter @inkladen
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