Dusk, nocked and pulled taunt on the bowstrings of day, has been released,

spreading night’s shadow as far as the eye can see.


And yet the bowstring’s range is not strong enough to reach beyond the horizon;

there, the sun still glows brightly.


Now, darkness has encouraged the vigilant moon to climb boldly into the sky,

casting a pearlescent glow upon all below.


Crashing ocean waves glow brightly before collapsing in supplication upon the sand,

as if to beg forgiveness of all whose gaze upon the glistening ocean

has been distracted by their intrusion.


Deep inland, the brooks and streams briskly weave their way toward the ocean,

bubbling and gurgling in glee, 

churning up delicate bubbles of foam

that floats effortlessly upon its surface.


The many creatures of the night prepare to venture out upon the landscape

while the daylight hunters nest down for the evenings rest.


Just as the fisherman with his net,

the returning sun will again cast daylight back into the dark sky,

banishing the weakening night who dashes away to rest and regain its strength,

in preparation for its next flight across the sky.


  • :

    The fabric of nature in the cycle of the day.

My name is Sharon Cunningham and I would love to live in a stress-free world of love and joy. I live there when I write! When I’m not writing, I live where you live: on the outskirts of Nirvana! I’m a daughter, a sister, a mother, a wife and a grandmother, and I cherish every role I’ve been blessed with. During the day I’m a paralegal. The rest of the time, I’m a grounded dreamer. I try to not so much write a poem, rather to allow a poem to write itself. My desire is that my writings create a window in our serious and stressful day that allows you and I a brief moment of sharing in an expression of the joie de vivre, love of life.



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