The Setting Of The Sun

In the glint of the golden light.
She whispers in the wind.
Stationary, still, bobtail twitching.
She gives notice of the behind.

Hidden along the boundary.
Her russet flank of fleece doth flicker.
Heralding the rusting of the day.
And the onset of night more quicker.

She's gentle, she's magic.
All senses fully attentive.
The hush of twilight falls upon her.
As evening time starts to sieve.

Mist upon the valley floor.
Laps up against the hedges.
Ridden steeds stand tall.
Shapes become foggy at the edges.

A tide of black and white rolls forth.
A moo-vement towards the fence.
A nurturing, maternal force.
Grazing upon the day's pretence.

Dew dropped grasses.
Bitten, scrunched and crunched.
Cud chewed over, thoughts mulled.
Painful memories punched.

There's a gallop upon the skyline.
A whinnying of an equine master.
Feathered white wings take flight.
As dreams approach ever faster.
​
Darkness seeps in now.
Where sunshine once lay.
Silence takes hold.
​Time to sleep, and pray.

​By Simon Blackler
Copyright © Simon Blackler 2019

If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below.

Be Shouted An Intro Session

Nature Connection