Photo by Grant McIver
Twilight’s Poem
Danny P. Barbare
The twilight wanted me
To write
A poem about it.
So I took the sky and
Wrote the word
Bluebird.
It flew from the east
And perched
In the magnolia tree
Quietly singing.
Then slow as the night
With deep blue on its
Back
And orange on its
Breast
It flew into the day
Brilliantly.
In the west, the oak tree
Was its nest.
Danny P. Barbare
The twilight wanted me
To write
A poem about it.
So I took the sky and
Wrote the word
Bluebird.
It flew from the east
And perched
In the magnolia tree
Quietly singing.
Then slow as the night
With deep blue on its
Back
And orange on its
Breast
It flew into the day
Brilliantly.
In the west, the oak tree
Was its nest.