…of the vanishing night

In the final moments of the vanishing night
a sultry sun breaches the horizon
where distant mists, distil her light
time has stopped
and all around, nothing moves
even the shadows are frozen
shimmering and still as the dew
the winds stream blue
through the silence of the pearlescent sky
bearing petals and perfume
captured from the woods below
the music of morning is flowing like water
drawn from the rivers of heaven
where the lady moon is folding her veils
extinguishing her candle
as she fades gently out of sight
© Ann Bagnall