grey, brown.
silence comes with dusk
while the dogs chase fish
through darkening waters.
a moth curls up towards
me. its wings pale
against the rose bushes.
it brings with it a magic
which exists between light
and dark. in between.
my thoughts escape
the ordinary and slip into
this world where a bright
yellow lemon is almost
the same tone as my skin.
above me bare trees riot
twisting broad strokes of ink
against a sky deep blue
with a pale yellow border. i
scratch the surface of a lemon
its smell becomes my world
reaching out and enfolding a
garden drifting through the
softness of dusk.
white flowers.
moth wings.
a star.









