Soft the dove-hued shadows mingle,
Color fades, sound droops to sleep.
Life and motion melt to darkness
Swaying murmurs far and deep.
But the night moth’s languid flitting
Stirs the air invisibly:
Oh, the hour of wordless longing;
I in all, and all in me.
Twilight—tranquil, brooding twilight,
Course through me, serene and smooth;
Quiet, languid, fragrant twilight,
Flood all depths, all sorrows soothe,
Every sense in dark and cooling
Self-forgetfulness immerse,—
Grant that I may taste extinction
In the dreaming universe.
Quote: Fyodor Tyutchev, from Twilight; (Translated by Avrahm Yarmolinsky). Written in 1835.
Photo: DK @ Twilight. 5:45 am September 12, 2021. 67° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.
with thanks to David Kanigan
Carrie's Bench 
Thanks Carrie! Even more beautiful on your blog post!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Carrie. The photo, beautiful as always. The poem brought me back over and over. In part I am impressed that themes of humanity cycle through the ages despite any supposed advances. The poet Mary Oliver begins her poem Messenger with: “My work is loving the world.” It seems you spread love. Thank you. Alison
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your reflection on Mary Oliver’s poem is insightful and painfully true. Thank you for these kind words.
LikeLike