Shadows into darkness

The season’s shadows
Are folding into the year.
Glimpsed lapses in the turning
Of life and of living.
The lines upon this face
Traces of their path.
Creased etching in the stone
Of an alabaster heart.
Silently sitting with
Breath held in the moment.
The warmth of a golden sun
Silhouettes the coming of night.
A cool fragrance whispers with
A jasmine scented breeze.
The trees rustle restlessly
At its call to the end of the day.
Softly stroked as the waves caress
Their lovers glittering shore.
There is a peace that fills
This soul half empty of time.
Cradling the aching longing
For more of what has passed.
None taken, none given,
Only the turning of earth.
That and, the creeping,
Folding of the shadows into darkness.

Copyright:  2009, Donald Harbour