The light has almost drained away, as all
The beings of the day are turning in—
Except for humans. Even they have slowed,
And so the city’s hustle is subdued
As evening falls upon us like a leaf.
The humors ebb and surge within us all
As sunset yields to dusk and then to night.
The city’s lights hold back the stars and yet
The boldest now are twinkling and I see
What seemed a planet arc across the sky.
How often once, how rarely now, have I
Been one of those who watched the day depart.
So many memories of evenings past
Arise and flow—like ripples on a pond
That cede to stillness in the twilight's glow.
The dawn, the dusk, the turning of the tide
Are times when we are meant to be outdoors,
To see the changing light, to hear, to smell—
To taste of essence, feel the pulsing wave—
To be as one with time and space and god.
2015 July 10th Fri., 9:42 pm (third stanza added July 11th, Sat. 8:58 pm) Bensonhurst Park, Brooklyn, New York