Blue Hour

A minute of stillness lasts

an hour as dawn breaks

Flights of light still drowse

While the night's birds

fall closely to peace.

Where definite tranquility

lingers—it tingles the fingers

of the gentle breeze awake

Brush by brush it splashes

majestic whirlwinds; paints

the scenic hue a shade

of blue.

Is it merely a spectacle

that dims the afterglow

or a celestial wonder

jealous of your ethereal

madness, thus steals it

from you?

I wonder how the blue hour

could be so fond of your

impeccable beam and

your unwithered grace

the way that I am of those

that never cease.