Twilight
When the sky turns slate,
and grows still and silent,
and twilight touches with
its smudge of suggestions.
And all tones become hints of grey,
a comfort,
I am held in the embrace
of coming night.
I know the day is done,
quietly,
and I am in soft shades and edges.
A safe womblike place
as the night approaches
with its darker intentions.
Bionote
Linda Woolven has published over 100 poems, including two chapbooks, in numerous journals. She won an award for one of her poems.
