Evening Blues
THE sun has quit its place as garden's lampand shaded still, within these granite wallsdull navy shadows stretch like hands to grablast buds and blooms. As pewter twilight fallsdelphiniums that kept so quiet by dayare insects' night clubs now, abuzz affray.
Two chalk hill blues revived by icy drafts
waltz bright along a dappled slaty path
while mauve and cobalt pansies watch fixed-faced
and hosts of frrail-stemmed cornflowers blow and bow.
But damasked roses, pink and proud by day
close up and shrink to shades of midnight grey.
And yet the sapphire rose so false in light
turns really blue in coming tones of night.
Mary Charman-Smith