Cobalt Moon

Cobalt Moon.
I stepped onto the terrace, the still and silent evening wrapped in grey echoing the church bells that chimed in steps and distances across the deepening  shadows thickening into the emptiness, the last breath of Spring, the falling memories and blossom of the passing month of May, And hidden in the hush, the green, the places where the wind left and went away, I saw the footsteps of morning, across the dew drops glistening upon the freshly mown garden lawn, I followed them with my eyes, and saw a figure, standing, wrapped in silver gossamer threads and moonlight pointing to the river, as it emptied in waves and ripples of conversations, reflecting the last running mirrors of daylight, deepening again the falling, the few evening stars once hidden, now turning above the fields and edges, along the last tendrils of day against the blackness, the cobalt moon arising,

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