Crepuscular
Tonight, there will be no
reiterating of fictions or
anything of the sort.
No notes of nostalgia hinting
at a seismic shift to cooler
climes elsewhere.
It’s a drizzly dusk that enters
the frame at this hour
with it’s sly grating cadence.
Tonight, there will be no
moping nostalgia or any
neo-expressionist motifs.
Only the damp, prickly
needling of showers on the
driveway & the hearty tang
of garlic salt and warm butter,
smirking through the surface of
freshly dug new potatoes.
©️Orion Foote, 2022
Visions of Orion Poetry 