dusk – Colleen Keller Breuning

Night Hawk

I have been one acquainted with the night…
When shadows masquerade in fantasy.
Like vagabond angels, emotions take flight,
Dancing far outside the realm of reality.

When shadows masquerade in fantasy…
Kindred spirits soar across blue bay.
Dancing far outside the realm of reality,
Feel the morning madness drift away.

Kindred spirits soar across blue bay…
Clouds crash, tumultuous rain spills.
Feel the morning madness drift away,
Falling silent, deep into the forest hills.

Clouds crash, tumultuous rain spills…
As hawk keeps watch high in hickory tree.
Falling silent, deep into the forest hills,
Breathe in the essence of true serenity.

As hawk keeps watch high in hickory tree…
Dusk whispers, leaves tumble to and fro.
Breathe in the essence of true serenity,
Savoring stars that bedeck a field of indigo.

Dusk whispers, leaves tumble to and fro…
Like vagabond angels, emotions take flight.
Savoring stars that bedeck a field of indigo,
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Colleen Keller Breuning © 2014
October 10, 2014

She Who Dances in Snow

Black velvet drapes of dusk
cloak moss covered hills.
The air exhales its chill
as February blooms beneath
a burgeoning gibbous moon.

Wisps of white crystalline
fall — leaping, swirling,
around glowing streetlights
like vagrant moths
courting open flames.

Here! I am here,
the snow falling around me,
falling down like soothing rain,
manna from heaven,
sweet nectar on my tongue.

Thoughts of grandeur
swell inside my mind,
my heart in relevé,
I dance in the gravel driveway
in a pas de deux with the lamppost.

Mr. Stone is taking out the trash,
dragging his bins to the curbside
on this bitter Tuesday night.
He leans against the western wind,
catching a glimpse of my performance.

I pause from my unabashed reverie,
exclaiming, “Snow! It’s snowing!”
as my new neighbor shakes his head,
pondering his odds, wondering his fate
of landing another loon on the block.

Then, with the delight of a child,
I do cartwheels in the fields of white,
waltzing the night away with Old Man Winter.
Yes, I am that crazy Southern girl,
the belle of the winter ball…

She who dances in snow.