At Sundown

Soft winds –

Everything’s swinging out

At sundown

Leaves dance shaping the

Tree’s blackening arms and

Firm bodies that move closer

Toward Baden’s blue skies.

 

Stretches like a beached whale

With its distinct air hole

Gaping at the apex

Of its head.

 

Mysteriously ash-white walls

Look at me with black eyes

Chimney tops as warrior guards

Stand firm and defensive

The rose garden down in front

Still plays in shades of pink and

Reds.

 

Peterson’s soft piano jazz swings

To the fading natural light

The mind wanders across the

Darkening tree tops and climbs

The hill to the castle’s turret.

 

Soon the quaintness of an eve

Sings in the Sauerhof-blues

My mind on my new Muse

I’ve depicted with my soul’s

Eyes.

 

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’18.

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