Twilight is the loveliest time of the day,
Viewed from my open window.
One dusk the sun was a ball of fire,
Softened by thin layers of pearl.
Once opal strands stretched across the sky,
A necklace ready for the moon to wear.
Some times the world's gold is hoarded in the west,
Reflected on roofs and panes far below.
When I am not at my window at twilight
I am lonely, longing for lost beauty.
Nancy Richey Ranson