poetry critical

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Dawn paints itself in ethereal shades.
Nights stage fades to a haze of grey and blue.
Luminous visions shiver floods of dew.
Even the manicured lawn appears to move
beneath a shimmering gleam that renews itself
while by-passing twilights footprint.
A breeze eases through tints of smoke green leaves.
Watery sun, pale as distant stars
casts barely discernible shadows
against a garden gate.
People begin to move
through a day becoming more solid
as shadows shorten,
like the certainties they cling to,
many believing them true.

8 Mar 19

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