Dark at the End of a Day
written by: Raymond Isakow
As the moon rises above the treeline,
it adjusts its yellow tie,
reflected off the idling river.
Satisfied, it glides upward,
to join the celestial jewel box,
of crystals, diamonds and spinning fire,
embedded in the deep black velvet dome.
I’ve walked home to my village
on this path many times.
Casting a moon shadow,
watching the canopy unfurl, in awe.
But tonight feels different.
Returning from the limiting aggression of the city lights,
I appreciate the volume of free darkness
and its concessions to light.
As I walk on,
the orchestra starts tuning,
for tonight’s performance.
A new unrehearsed variation.
A symphony unintentional,
played by ancient memory.
Violin jackal howl
Harp wind rustling the reeds
Tympanic rolling lions growl
Oboe bucks alarm sharp bark
Flute roosting birds
Double base gentle elephant rumble
Cello warthog grumpy screech
Tenor mother calling her children.
Watching from above the horizon distant mountains,
an ominous darker shade of black,
the angry face of a furious storm hovers.
Silver lightning cracking,
like a neon whip
and grumbling thunder echoes.
The charred smell of dinner fires,
work done,
just embers that glow.
An inviting warm smile on the wind.
I take off my shoes
And feel like Moses.
- Dark at the End of a Day - April 9, 2026
