In the Wake of the Winged Hour
A Step Taken Toward No Certain Shore
A stranger moves in the fading light
his face carries warmth but also the cold of winter
I search for words but none stay long enough
he walks between the end of day and what is coming
the world keeps turning and forgets its places
a swan leaves the water without looking back
I hesitate but lean toward the quiet sound
a promise I think I hear though nothing is spoken
the spell will not hold it slips before I touch it
a breath that fades as soon as it begins
a page not turned a story still waiting
time softens until nothing is steady
the leaves bend holding their own history
their silence spread across the thinning air
the clouds hang heavy layered like worn cloth
a bell rings though no one stands to hear it
I walk alone yet the past brushes against me
a glimpse of memory almost near enough
the shadows breathe then blur into each other
voices rise low inside the body like water
the night arrives carrying a dim light
a lantern swinging above a restless tide
I step across the line from day into dark
not quite arriving and not ready to leave
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
Tim is an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. He writes about rural life, family, and the places he grew up around. His poetry and essays have appeared in Bloodroot and Coal Dust, his latest book.
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Comments (2)
Such a wonderful poem, love how you describe the scenery of walking in day to no night, and the thoughts that comes with it.
This fleeting moment, between day and night, is so poetic and you've captured it so well with such imagery. Well done!