Evening can look like rainfall
these shorter days,
falling and falling in front of my eyes,
rain I can see but not feel –
what looks like a socked in sky
may really be sundown
sneaking in behind the clouds
It feels silent
but I can still hear ravens
and the rattle of the ladder
and the hum of distant traffic,
the quiet being, actually,
the day’s anticipation of the night,
their brief meeting
soft as the clasp of hands.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 12, 2020
By lamplight and moonlight,
cricket undulations coming to the fore,
we settle into day’s end, sit on the porch
for just a little more
Cooked from the high arc of the day,
cooled by darkening evening,
we feel the equanimity
from work and well earned rest
There’s more to do tomorrow,
there’s a night’s sleep to slide into –
cushion for the coming day,
so little time to find a rhyme
before I slip away.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 28, 2020
At twilight, midst the evening calls
of robins, blackbirds, flickers, other singers,
I hear the turkeys flying up to roost –
the loud clap of their wings, the landing,
which sounds almost like a crash,
the rather muted commentary
I don’t see them, but I know their sound,
for other years they’ve roosted
in trees near us,
and I could watch them settle in,.
After they’re quiet, after it’s dark,
the geese start up –
many a point to settle
before they call it a night.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 8, 2020
My sense of beauty is enchanted
by this transition time
where windows show
the view and the reflection
at the same strength
and illustrate
things that go through each other —
inhabit the same space
without touching,
move according to their own lights,
their own laws —
coexisting
only in the eyes and minds
of those observing.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 18, 2019
In a moment things can change color,
the fall of light, the path of clouds,
reflection’s edges …
My thought trails behind perceptions —
I reach for color names
but cannot find them
Or I still think the walls are yellow
long past the time that shadow
has rendered them something else —
Is it a weakness of language,
or of my nimbleness of mind,
or some efficient function
of what I need to know?
— As evening pulls the corners into umber,
leaving golden glows around the lamps.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 20, 2019