The Magical Hour

Atop a hill he stood, in the magical hour
The sun shining sideways, colorizing the sky
Rainbow hues have exploded in breath-taking pow’r
And the rolling golden fields of grain, far and nigh
Turned deep ochre; burnt orange, then lucent amber;
The heavens darken, as the day breathed a last sigh!
A more fascinating sight, he can’t remember!
Layers of red, tangerine clouds, shades of copper;
Deep purple up high, with the blue ocean under
And the cool breeze, to his ears a gentle whisper
A muted reminder, should the stunning spectacle
Be not enough to prompt a delightful shiver
There before him, his eyes feast on a miracle
A display of pow’r, mystical yet lyrical!
But sadly, the magical hour’s just transient
For the sun disappeared behind faraway hills
If only he could freeze time, the night he’d prevent
And let kaleidoscopic splendor give him chills...
But shadows swept the fields, in dark and darker grays
Thus unseen, meadows of heathers and daffodils
But in the flat plains below, a lonely tree sways
Its leaves in rhythm with the early evening breeze
Tall grasses, their blades shimmer with poetic grace
In monochromatic light from behind tall trees!
The dark ocean glistening from borrowed moonlight
And the waves, sweet lullaby from beyond the seas
Yes, sunset’s over; but there’s beauty in the night
Magic and myst’ry when the moon has taken flight!
© Vic A Evora

Some say sunset or sundown; others say dusk or twilight, even afterglow. That period of time between day and night. For me, it is a "magical hour" - a most beautiful, heavenly time. Artists have tried to paint it but their interpretations are all short of the original. Poets have written about it, but no poem has ever captured its real beauty. I have written a few attempts and have failed miserably. Alas!!


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