Dusk

January 11, 2014

This January day in Georgia started with sheets of sideways rain and rolls of thunder, but ended with gentle, clear sunlight.

Now:
Trees crowd the sky like silent judges in the pale orange and blue dusk. The moon, waxing gibbous.

I pause a moment at the curb before taking the mail from the box and notice the soft, damp air on my face.

On the walk back down the driveway I see the white lights dotting the Norfolk pine in the window.

Mindfulness Writing, Small Stones #11,
Writing Our Way Home.

Published by Christine

Christine Swint’s poems have appeared in Calyx, Birmingham Poetry Review, Slant, a Journal of Poetry, Tampa Review, Heron Tree, Ekphrasis, and others. Her poems have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and Best New Poets, and she has won first place prizes from the Georgia Poetry Society and Agnes Scott College. Her first collection, Swimming This, was published in 2015 by FutureCycle Press. She teaches first-year composition at a metro-Atlanta university and writes about poetry, art, hiking, and yoga at Balanced on the Edge, https://balancedonedge.blog Twitter @christine_swint View all posts by Christine