Last Lingering Light
A red sunset bleeds onto a blue sky,
behind branches of a majestic oak.
And shadows ink green leaves in silhouette,
as lonely crickets chirp and bullfrogs croak.
I can hear the crops rippling in the breeze,
and a brook babbling with a southern drawl.
Yet they’re lost in the quiet of night,
as time slows to a perceptible crawl.
As adventurous moths take to the air,
acrobatic bats blindly hunt in flight.
And darkness descends like a velvet curtain,
as day acquiesces to might of night.
A quicksilver moon pools amidst the clouds,
dripping drops of sunlight onto the lake.
And all of heaven begins to glitter,
as billions of sleeping stars now awake.
And dusk snuffs out the last lingering light,
as nature silently whispers, Goodnight.
Emile Pinet was born in a small city, (Bathurst) New Brunswick, Canada, the third eldest of thirteen children, ten girls and three boys. He is the product of a semi-dysfunctional family, brought up by a physically abusive and controlling father, versus a loving, nurturing mother. Many of his poems reflect the uniqueness of nature, which he loves, and his poetic observations of life in general. Emile is 66 years old and has been writing poems since he was about 35. The ideas started to come to him rapidly one day at work-- he decided to write them down and express himself through his poetry.