[NicknamedBob]

Nice poem. The transition from day to night, or night to day, makes us all poets in that moment.

To Day

Darkness, made the more profound,
By silence, whose husbanded sound,
Has stretched the firmament of stilled air,
Until it almost seems about to tear...

Then worn and tattered threadbare night,
Whose shivering stars have tithed their meager light,
Surrenders to a youthful sun to rouse up all the dew,
As elder brethren go to sleep, all blanketed in blue.

The steaming rocks and hillside pearls are rising,
On slanting golden treads, while songbirds in surprising,
Cheerfulness, unclench their frozen toes,
Before the sunny fireplace that rose.

And I my mind and plans for day compose,
When to my sight an amber-petaled rose,
Has caused all time to stand still in its place,
Until I have completed worship of your face.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . October 8, 2005

[no-to-illegals]

Thanks Bob. Can forever and to infinity and beyond know the posts will be poetry and prose, if, we simply fly away. btw ... I refuse to get on the plane!

[no-to-illegals]

Bob, the reason I am unable to get on the plane is the poem was written for a lady. Being not a lady keeps me from boarding the plane. Being a fellow male, will a handshake and a nod of approval for the poem be sufficient for you and a lady friend? On that basis I surrender my plane ticket and leave the plane ride to you and your lady friend. Don’t worry, I will not be in the pilot’s seat.

[TheOldLady]

The January Thaw - It is 65° outside and in here today.

December 27, 2012                                                     January 13, 2013
   

The high tomorrow is going to be 32°.

[Silentgypsy]

Thank you!