if you sit still and quiet
out on the porch of the evening
you can watch Stark Ridge
swallow the sun.
pastel sky fades out fast
as the hills creak and moan
and come to life
and buck up their spiney, piny, backs
to blot out pretty pinks and purples
with deep, throbbing, green.
and the night meets the woods
dressed in twilight,
edged in spooky, celestial, mist
floating up from in under the cliffs.
ghosts of cool creeks
reduced to steam on summer air.
Love the images you create here…really enjoy the line “out on the porch of the evening”
well thanks so much, Samantha! it’s kinda’ hard to capture that sundown feeling, but i was givin’ it my best shot.
Misty, the one- or two-syllable words (except for “celestial”) seem to contribute to the atmosphere of the poem. I also like “spiney, piny.”
thanks so much, Gaby! y’know, as soon as i started typing this up out of my journal i felt like celestial was not a word that fit right in.
I especially like the lines:
you can watch Stark Ridge
swallow the sun.
and
and buck up their spiney, piny, backs
to blot out pretty pinks and purples
with deep, throbbing, green.
I enjoy the twilight ending of your poem…
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