Glory Is The Evening by Yashar Seyedbagheri

 Glory Is The Evening

 

glory is the evening

pink and purple shadows shimmering

over curving country roads

snow dissolving, piece by piece

rich dirt revealing warmth

 

glory is the moon

who wears a newly brightened face, snaking through silent pines

wandering through wisp clouds

beaming like a child

before she takes a bow

 

glory is the stillness

of a butter-colored lamp

from a home on a hill, where a Tchaikovsky waltz wafts

images of dancing flowers welcoming the weary walker

day is done

 

glory to the trees

who dance in new garments

and whisper a mother’s hush

on a crisp, welcoming breeze

winter’s whipping winds no more

 

glory is spring