The bright afternoon is over,
the sun is low in the sky,
the world is holding its breath
and the trees are waving goodbye.
The first night creatures are stirring
and bats come out to play,
as the night spreads over the plain
and claims the leavings of the day.
When the sun goes down by James Aitchison
Desert sunset, Australia. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Like skeletons on their way home,
Waving their hands in the air,
The trees at dusk look alive
And I wonder what secrets they’d share.
What troubles disturbed their peace?
What have they witnessed this day?
What birds graced their branches,
What kangaroos passed this way?
Soon they will fade into night,
Another day will be done.
And the bush will sleep until morning
And the blazing of the sun.
Dusk in the bush. Photo by Ginette Pestana
I found gold,
at the end of the day.
I found gold,
more than I could say.
I found gold,
how I wished it would stay.
I found gold,
but it slipped away.
Sunset in the Gulf Country, North Queensland. Photo by Ginette Pestana
I bent my head
so far back,
I heard it make
a funny crack.
What a sight,
my neck is sore,
still can’t believe
the sky I saw.
It was awesome,
all because
the sky was full
of tomato sauce!
The sun melts
into the far hills;
the lake catches fire
as the heat spills.
Night is coming now
this land to fill;
will tomorrow be
more perfect still?
