Dusk

The sun goes down
quietly, with color
and silhouettes,

Bittersweet,
like love lost,
full of beauty, and sadness.

About this poem

This is another one of those poems that started long, and word by word I cut it down and cut it down, looking for an essence, like Michelangelo’s angel. On the end, the poem I found was not the poem I started out to write.

The picture was taken at Jeff Anderson’s last night, near Granville, NY,  who kindly opened his home and grill to a group of us coming to the Bedlam Farm Open House.

Tom