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The Wind at Twilight

Wind sculptured escarpments,
painted them russet over yawning villages.
Undulating willow-branches
brushed borders of rivers
flowing into Austral sunsets.
Everything prepared for sleep
except the ruthless wind.

Silhouettes of whistling poplars
marked the divide
between day and spectral night.
The wind governed all of life.
Autumn shed myriad leaves
from deciduous branches
outlined against sprinting clouds.

Twilight filtered through
like a shaft of gold
determined to dispense
with phantoms of approaching night.
I believe it was the wind
that softened chasms
of unnamed absences.

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Last few words: 
This poem is about the ruthless winds that battered our farm bordering a river. The wind toppled poplars and took half the new crops of apples. My job was to help pick up the apples and my Dad sent them to the cider manufacturors. I mention the apples in another poem, this is a spiritual reflection. As a child, the strong winds scared me.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

Hi, Gracy,
Your poems bring spiritual viewpoints to physical things - much like here. You've described the harshness of the winds and what damage they can do, but it's in the language and tone of your poetry that I get a better understanding and greater respect for Mother Nature.
Thank you!
L

Hello Lavender, yes, I was in a spiritual mood when I wrote this. I'm glad you understood my feelings towards Nature, be it flora or fauna. Thanks for that, best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

that's quite a picture you have painted, and it's one I can relate to. Here in the Phoenix area we get those annual billowing summer sandstorms that turn the sky yellow and one can't see the road ahead. Those are dangerous times to be on the highways, but fortunately--or unfortuantely--the city has expanded and those Sahara-like sandstorms are fairly rare now, ocurring maybe once each summer. I remember metal sheds soaring into the desert and anything not bolted down blowing away. A nicely painted poem that brought back memories, Gracy. No apples here, as they don't grow well in our hot climate. Great write; no nits.
Jerry

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>Please visit my website: www.jerrykspoetry.com

Dear Jerry, thanks for your comments. We don't get sandstorms in the apple valley, but there are out on the steppes, especially now that there's been so much devastation due to hydroelectric dams, paved highways and much more. Sandstorms are natural, but humankind has made them worse, or else made them disappear, as in your case around Phoenix.
I'm glad this poem brought back memories. Hope you're well. Regards to all your family, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

a program about the Dustbowl here in the 'States' back in the thirties and I've seen pictures of the sandstorms in Australia. it is a rare thing here, but I could see the fearsome power of them and imagine that they must be a very frightening thing. Especially for a child. You have described the storms and the damage to the apple orchards, much as the ones here had wiped out the crops of the Mid-West here. It must have been a horrifying experience. ~ Geezer.
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Our Chatroom is open 24/7 Feel free to use it for
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Dear Geez, yes, sandstorms are scary. As I said in another comment, the winds in our valley were powerful and felled poplars, but they were not sandstorms. However, as a child, I was afraid of them. They kept me up at night, knowing that my Dad would be upset about the crops. And he was, we were sent off to fill baskets of the bruised apples which were then sent off to make cider. Very good cider!

We also have dustbowls in central Patagonia, where the steppes are. Partly due to damage done by corporations. We're all being punished for our collective behavior, that's what I believe.
All the best and thanks for sharing your memories and your kind comments. Best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

your poem flawed me. it is picture perfect
I saw it all
wow just beautiful
what more can I say

you title is spot on that is what drew me in so you can say it did it's job

Our chat room is not only there for Thursday afternoon chat 3:30-4:30
but it is there and ready for all to use at anytime of day come often and hook up in conversation to those across the globe

Thank you, Lynn, I'm glad you like the title and the picture I attempted to show. You're encouraging me to continue writing, thanks for that, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

upon reading this many times, once again i have nothing to say except wow, i so admire the way you write with such wisdom and power bringing your imagery to life. I am fortunate to live in a place that is rarely very windy but i too have felt the force here.

Thank you...Teddy

Dear Teddy, I'm glad you like my poem. You're lucky to live in an area where there are no powerful winds or sandstorms. What more can I say, except thank you for always encouraging and commenting on my poems. Tis a bit difficult, because nowadays I hardly speak English to anybody. When I have supper with my daughter, we speak Spanish because her husband is Argentine. Diana and I speak English when we go on our daily walks in our small area. With the lockdown, we had to give up our weekly Burako sessions. Have you ever played Burako?
All the best and thank you again,Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

Burako is a card game?. I speak Italian more than English, so I understand. Sometimes when people ask me how to say something in English I have to pause to remember that's what it's like when there is more than one language! But your writing keeps you with English and it's amazing. Spanish is a beautiful language to. Take care gracy and have a lovely Tuesday.

Thank you...Teddy

Dear Teddy, Burako is a game of numbers, written on large plastic cubes, like bigger than dominoes. It's best played with a minimum of 4 people, but 2 or 3 is OK. One has to make sequences of 7 numbers of the same colour, can use two jokers to complete;
or 7 cubes with say, all red 4's, or a "dirty" one with different coloured 4's. The grand challenge is to make a sequence of only jokers, 7 of them. Each challenge has different values and after each game the totals are summed up and so on till everybody gets tired and one has coffee or tea with cakes; gossip is hilarious.
Any language is easy to learn if your parents speak it to you when you're still in the cradle. Children learn with great facility, they learn grammar without knowing any of the rules. They recite poems by heart without understanding them, yet. Aristotle said in his Poetica and Rethorics that it's good to exercise the memory. I agree with him. It's the first part of learning to understand and associate with illustrations in the books and so on.
I also learned Spanish, but at the rural school and then at the bilingual boarding school in Buenos Aires.
Thanks for taking an interest, I love interchanging ideas on topics that crop up here. Take care, all the best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

Your craft is, as always, a masterpiece. You shower nature with the grace of imageries that are so perfectly plugged in to give it a relatable touch and feeling. I must admit also that the piece penetrates the depth of my mind and does drive out magnificent imaginations. Nice job. Thanks for sharing.

chimaono

Dear Chima, thanks for visiting and commenting my poem. I'm glad you relate to it in a good way.
I attempt to make readers' imagination fly, sometimes it works, so I'm happy that it happens to you. All the best, Gracy
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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

Very dreamy!

xxx
Edna
Poet(ess) to the Stars

Hi Edna, so you find it dreamy? I'm so glad. That word says all that I felt when writing this poem. All the best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

Reading your creation for the first time and it has the essence of a seasoned poet as confirmed in your profile...

i was drawn to this poem by its title and especially liked the concluding lines..

Twilight filtered through
like a shaft of gold
determined to dispense
with phantoms of approaching night.
I believe it was the wind
that softened chasms
of unnamed absences.

Looking forward to read more...

I am returning here after a long spell of absence...

be well...

raj (sublime_ocean)

Hello raj, so glad you've returned after a long absence. Thank you for your kind comments, I wrote it when I was desolate because some loved ones had died. Long ago, it's therapy for me to write poems or short stories.
I'm hoping to read some of your poems, will search now for them. Keep safe, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

Your poems are indeed evocative...pleasure reading them..

be well..

raj (sublime_ocean)

Hi raj, thanks for returning to read my poem. Your comments are so kind. You too, write lovely poems. All the best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

My pleasure....

regards,

raj (sublime_ocean)

My pleasure as well, raj. Do post more, I enjoy your topics. Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

I posted one to Idle time workshop...do read and critique when you find time Gracy...

be well..

raj (sublime_ocean)

so many comments
but
I have no such element
Guide me with G=grace
Gracy
be my lady mentor
since Judy
now I miss

Dear Lovedly, your request is a compliment. I've never been a mentor to anyone, as far as I know. I was a moderator at a website that's now almost defunct, one can only play word challenges nowadays. You should join, it's fun. Mosaic Musings.net. Look for Acropolis once there.
I never got to know Judy, I'm sorry you lost your mentor. Mainly, I advise poets to write their poems as tightly as possible, so they don't sound like prose. FV can have inner rhymes for musicality. I do some rhyming poems, but I'm no expert.
Still, ask me whatever you wish, if I can be of help, I'll gladly give it.
Take care, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment
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