A neighborhood.
At dusk.
Things are getting ready
to happen
out of sight.
Stars and moths.
And rinds slanting around fruit.
But not yet.
One tree is black.
One window is yellow as butter.
A woman leans down to catch a child
who has run into her arms
this moment.
Stars rise.
Moths flutter.
Apples sweeten in the dark.
~ Eavan Boland, “This Moment” from In a Time of Violence
Notes: Poem Source – The Writer’s Almanac. Photo: Source- Unknown
Live & Learn 
the magical transformation. dawn and dusk are my favorite times of day. they crackle with a quiet energy.
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Yes….
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When it’s getting dark and I have to take the dogs outside to do their numbers, I tell myself it’s exactly the same safe yard that I was outside in a couple of hours ago. It’s the same place but with less light.
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Smiling. For me, it’s the Basement. 🙂
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Basements have a definite creep factor, too.
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I love the evening. Don’t you?
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Yes. The evening and early morning.
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Wishing that all the stories behind the windows at dusk are filled with the magic of a child running into loving arms..
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That is magic.
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Memory of our family driving anywhere in the evening, and my dad and I making up stories about the people in the houses we passed. We played this game until he was no longer able to play it. That was magic for me (though I never figured out how he could pull quarters out of my kids’ ears either)
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Beautiful. Thanks for sharing Mimi.
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Reblogged this on Bright, shiny objects! and commented:
Apples sweeten in the dark. Love it…
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