Twilight Is Now Softly Slow Breathing Poem by Andrew David Dalby

Twilight is now softly slow breathing:
And In this so near sacred silent place,
Among the now rising budding blossom
Where throbbing, plump anthers unfurl;
I long to grasp for the peace that rests
Along this veined, bloom filled, Avenue.
And in the crimson of the setting sun,
Whose dim light is casts on fibrous hills;
In-between the clamor of the curling bells,
And amid the culling of the creaking daffodils;
I finally find the time to rest -and here- recline:
For twilight is now softly slow breathing:
And that...my love...is fine.