Dusk Poem by Richard Provencher
Dusk
Clouds are stacked in streaks
of colour as evening
smiles survive another
day within the forest -
gone are front end loaders
that tormented
an expanse of prime timber.
Now burnished pines
are guarding silhouettes
atop ridges, where wilderness
is a domain
among ancient sunsets
and from its natural menu:
prodding wind, reddened sky
and yellowish tinge.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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11/3/2025 6:00:40 PM # 1.0.0
