the dying of the light

Badger canyon in the afternoon sun
plays tricks with your eyes, the white picket fences
go horizontal against the vertical sky
putting crosses in your eyes.
The horses run against the outline of a plain
the orange leaves brightness, tells your heart an old lie
that this world dies once and will never live again
exploding against the dying of the light.

I see that road that used to go to the dump
snake its way up the hillside.
An afternoon outing in that old truck
with my old man and maybe my brother.
I see winter covering the brush and barbed wire fences
riding an innertube down the slope
hitting a tractor in Kennys truck
sliding on that ice.

I used to think the telephone poles
stretched like crosses into the distant void
hanging who from them, god only knew
but the world is full, of Barbarossas.
Loneliness spreads like a blue strip of fire
down your arms and legs and weights them
when your eyes are tricked into thinking
you’re seeing the dying of the light.

When Autumn comes, the summer roads
they all shut down before the snows
can cover the white lines
and let the mountain people go down.
In the canyon, the brightness of it leaves you blind
and covers the bare ground with forgetfulness.
Leaving you with a feeling of hibernation
to close your eyes, until spring comes again.

Yet I hear the bells on the Reindeers bridle
I see a one armed man fighting for survival
carrying a sign in these least benevolent of times
pricking your heart like a dobros strings.
I know we have our own dreams and stars
yet in these times you have to fight, just to stay where
you are
on the outermost ring,of the corona of the sun
somewhere near friends and family and familiar warmth.

There are babies on the way
and there are men looking for one chance.
There are women who have done the dance
and through it risen above their loneliness.
There are not always reasons for every death
or for every blessing that falls into our laps
yet you fight and keep fighting for the right to know
against the dying of the light.

Badger Canyon in the afternoon sun
the white picket fences, view by Currier and Ives
The hillside fades down into the distance
the light plays tricks, the peaceful setting
beguiles ones thoughts, always rigid against change
yet change is all around and change is the norm.
I feel fifteen years old on the inside
I feel ages old in the joints.

The lady of the house, I can see in her eyes
both an experience and a twinkle of an askerisk.
Being alive,makes every day holding a wildcard
being alive gives everything a chance
of seeing the beauty, of feeling the pain
of reliving the joy,again and again
of being close to that which brings you to life
against the dying of the light.

the dying of the light

bill bell

Everett, United States

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 2

Artist's Description

This isn’t new but it mentions reindeers and snow LOL
so I thought I’d repost

Artwork Comments

  • JRGarland
  • bill bell
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