At Twilight
Introduce me to the woman
Whose apt arthritic fingers wove
The the lace handkerchief peeking
From beneath a regal sleeve.
Let me sit by the fire of the man
Whose once-steel muscles lie
Flaccid now along arm and leg
As he stirs warm coffee and is silent.
Show me to the untaken seat
Where holiness has fled the realm
And shoulder to shoulder
Men and women murmur and smile.
An honest twilight is worth
A thousand blazing dawns.
Though dawn must come and come again,
How warm to smile by this murmuring brook.
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