Comes A Breeze Gusting Soft From The Edge Of The World (Poetry)

Through a dim afternoon
                                                all the trees standing moveless
the air frozen still
                                                as a thought held in trance
as though day has no purpose
                                                now summer’s departing
and leaves hang their silence
                                                in awe of romance.

The thin-bladed chill
                                                a mere hint of what’s promised
a glint of light trembles —
                                                a glimmer — no more
than a fancy half-seen
                                                in the mood’s valediction
some treason of nature
                                                lurks close by the door.

Faint trace of the gothic —
                                                a dull apprehension
lingers invisible
                                                haunting sad dreams
denying all chance of
                                                divine benediction
reducing time’s rivers
                                                to dry-bedded streams.

The dusk rolling grim
                                                hovers on the horizon
allows its grey fabric
                                                to slowly unfurl
when out from the strangeness
                                                of shadows that lengthen
comes a breeze gusting soft
                                                from the edge of the world.

And it brings like a breath
                                                from a goddess all-knowing
a calm to the spirit —
                                                a sharing of bliss
that soothes the tight fear
                                                gathered in by the twilight
grey orphaned and longing
                                                for charity’s kiss.

So, as the light bleeds
                                                to its ultimate dying
night comes freed of demons —
                                                all darkness will end
while listening trees wait
                                                as patient as watchmen
for dawn’s welcome message
                                                bright sunrise will send.

That breeze with its perfume
                                                of otherworld flowers
cool from the regions
                                                where whimsy runs free
caresses the cheek
                                                with benevolent wonder
the mind set to drift
                                                on serenity’s sea...