In the Evening Hours
Give me these moments
when gardenias ascend the sky
to sparkle
with the stars:
a fragrant scroll blazes
with ancient sonnets
of constellations.
Indigo waters are silver
with moonlight —
I tell you a secret:
my heart harbors many cotyledons
that bud at midnight,
but the purple garden
I must walk
alone.
by D. G. V. © 2012
*** Photograph: Tetonic Moonshine by Jack Sparrow
Originally posted 2012-05-06 01:00:17.
November the Penultimate
Never was a month so motley in its days:
November, penultimate month
of a year that frames the seasons,
when leaves in early days
turn to brightest garnet,
blazing topaz,
illuminated gold —
the latter days arrive
with the fire of the winds,
and the burning leaves take the plunge
from infernal towers of the branches
to the burial grounds of a gun-
metal, brumal earth —
November, November,
calves ache from the marathon,
hearts pound the door
to another December
when holly berries huddle upon the petals
of the soft-spoken snow,
and the fallen leaves breathe again
at the sound of the carols of the children,
the children rejoicing.
D. G. Vachal © 2013
Photography Credit: November’s Decline by Bucaneve
Ivy and honeysuckle climb
forbidden picket fences,
alabaster butterflies alight
upon the foxgloves,
lavender fields are fragrant
in the silver glow
of summer twilight —
I watch the seasons dance
upon your face,
feel the temperate breezes
heal
our winter-charred arms —
youth returns
if only for a fleeting moment
when amethyst and beryl,
topaz and peridot
explode
against the sapphire sky
of your smiling eyes —
I catch
diamonds and meteors
into the willow basket
of my daily bread.
D. G. Vachal © 2016
*** Photography Credit: Perseids Meteor by J.P. Danko
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