L'aura del Campo

32nd of November [279] A patch of peach [280]

32nd of November

Old lungs wheeze as stiff bellows
seek to reignite cold embers
of what must die, best left to ashes.

Feathers dull, its bones brittle,
the phoenix accepts its demise;
our hour of transformation has arrived.

Snow melts as it falls on eyelashes;
my red tea pot whistles — it's time.

© 2021 Kåre Enga [178.279] (2.desember.2021)

For

FORUM

EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT  (13+) This is a poetry sharing activity for expression and entertainment! #2232169 by Solace.Bring

Note: the long expected hour of passing has arrived? Original: our hour of passing has arrived.

A patch of peach

I forgot about that fiery orb until it set,
a patch of peach peeking through the glowering grey,
fading in the southern sky, dark day — now darksome night,
a gloomy passage through the cooling calm of twilight.

Now wrapped in blankets the balm of cocoa warms my hands;
till daybright it's fragrance bids me nod my head and rest.

© 2021 Kåre Enga [178.280] (2.desember.2021)

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