dusk saunters up the lane
whistling for his dog
and filling his pipe
leaning against the fence post,
he squints into the setting sun
and waits for twilight to arrive
wrapped in a mantle of early evening stars,
she skips down the lane
her steps light and lovely
tipping his hat,
dusk climbs the western ridge
trailing shadow
and wisps of smoke
as twilight fills the darkling sky
with the smiling crescent moon
and the scent of sweet honeysuckle
The Course of Our Seasons 
Beautiful images. Long day for me. Denis had stints put in. April was an ICU month. My poetic voice is still. Your poem is sparking a fire. Thanks…
Oh Patti! I certainly know those kind of months. Praying Denis has a completely and quick recovery. And the words will return – I am just finding my voice again after a year. Sending you hugs.
I cannot tell you how gorgeous this is! ❤ Enchanting!
First, it is so lovely to see you posting….and how I love that image of dusk sauntering down the lane, whistling for his dog and filling his pipe. Adorable! I can just see him! It sounds like spring is perking you up, my friend. What a gorgeous photo that is, too………..a delightful post.
Beautiful and so atmospheric! The poem is like a photograph. 😊😊😊