December dusk

Short hours of daylight
already coming
to a close under
pink-hued skies

The barren branches
stand out against
the pale dome of
the coming night

What warmth is left
goes with the sun
a crisp layer of white
a sheen of ice on water

Fading into the
darkness from th eeast
replaced by twinkling
light of distant stars

Quietly the ship glides
across the waters
heaving slowly
off a far-off swell

Its lights drift
into the safety of port
as we close out the night
until the coming of dawn

Dusk

The crescent moon rides
high in the sunset skies
cloudstreams far above
appear motionless

Reflected in the sea
not ruffled by movement
winking into the night
a reassurance from the lighthouse

A bird slowly glides past
looking for its last meal of the day
Nothing to be seen
darkness is nigh

Wisps of mist slowly drift by
gliding over the water
ghostly appearances
from the now faded day

The hunter now rises
chasing the bull
his two hounds faithful
close by to his east

As he moves to the west
will daybreak ensue
But what will that bring?
Only time will tell