The Golden Hour

The day is on its back, but not quite asleep just yet.
A silk net catches the last rays
As an eight-legged ick nears its winged prisoner
And beaks above chatter their goodbyes for now.
A crisp air hugs the horizon closer
As the sun’s hair falls gently golden
On her rocky shoulders, preparing for hypnosis.

A slither of moon escapes and casts his line outward
Onto a single fallen fireball: drawing closer
Venus sings her lullaby as mosquitos yawn awake.
She wears a crown of silver mist
As flirts flicker to mortal eyes on Earth’s pink crust.
The day slips into a dream as Venus beckons
Her choir of silver siblings to accompany
Once more the night’s moonlight sonata.

(Jana Ferreira, 2016)

More Poems

Published by Jana

My two big loves are food and writing.

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