Blue Dusk Poem

This painting by Sylvia Williams is one of my favorites ...here's the poem.



Hot Sky

Blood runs in the wood.
Sweet beauty
doesn't want to tell the world about that feeling
for which there are no words,
sweet beauty that draws tremor and pain
like a wire through the body’s arches,
through the brain,
up and down the spine.
I see your picture, your time.
Winter black branches
draw geographical designs in space,
delta networks
bleeding with the hot bay
of twilight blues -- a chorus behind,
waiting for the wintry moon:
a chanting silence --
beauty and sadness,
sadness and beauty.