A quatern for dverse.

This is the dying of the light
This is the dying of the light,
the final glow before the night
enfolds us in its blind embrace,
my fingers memorise your face,
its planes and angles, in touch-sight.
This is the dying of the light,
When every dog and cat is grey
as shadows on a sunless day,
the time when dog and wolf are merged,
’twixt moon and sun, in pools submerged.
This is the dying of the light,
when daybirds huddle close in fright.
A rose is dreaming on a stem,
in sun’s last rays a thorny gem,
as petals, crucibled, ignite—
this too is dying of the light.
