... in the evening...

… in the evening - as the light goes…

… a dejected sun… retreating until finally defeated, then yielding to the encroaching night…
… to hiding its dominance - before summoning the rejuvenation of a new day…
Westerly, I travel - unable to rescue that declining light
… powerless to recapture its reassuring magic…
the encroaching cold - thieving my energy and imagination…
as I meet, but not accept that darkness…

A waxing moon - gradually lighting the empty winding lane…
The quilt of moonlight and yielding shadow - a breeding ground for some imagined creatures of darkness…
as I plod wearily toward the valley… that valley of my imaginations…
… the focus of my fears…

Peter Hunter full-length works on Kindle

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