Poetry Friday: Evening Walk

I wrote this one in my journal years ago when the boys were small and solitude was at a premium.


by Mitali Perkins

Last light spills across the sea,
I watch it, standing silently.
Savoring the singing space,
Lilac hour, liquid grace.

When it’s done, I take the quiet,
Carefully, I fold it, tie it,
Bring it to my house of sound,
Store it so it’s quickly found.

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Liz in Ink said…
This is just lovely and a good reminder...
jama said…
Love it!
I usually just lurk on your blog, but this was too great not to comment on. LOVE your words- you truly have a gift.
TadMack said…
Oh, the lilac hour -- what a gorgeous way of putting it. I won't think of sundown and dusk the same again.
Mitali Perkins said…
Thank you all for your kind words. It's strange how I feel even more embarrassed about sharing my poems than sharing my fiction. Bottom-line: both are mortifying experiences. Non-fiction? No problem -- that's why it's so easy to blog.