Time is withheld
In the spectral song
Of the twilight din.
Birds flutter on the gloaming
Heartfelt and strong.
Human might is casually stung
Washed away in the pinkish light
These proud songsters now invite
With flecks of gilded sound.
They riff and ramble, no sparse delight
Their heartbeat held on a fluttering tongue
Our future warbling in their sight.
Gar Jones: February 2017
In the spectral song
Of the twilight din.
Birds flutter on the gloaming
Heartfelt and strong.
Human might is casually stung
Washed away in the pinkish light
These proud songsters now invite
With flecks of gilded sound.
They riff and ramble, no sparse delight
Their heartbeat held on a fluttering tongue
Our future warbling in their sight.
Gar Jones: February 2017