the crane folded from twilight
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the crane folded from twilight
Some evenings arrive like folded paper — creased with light, weightless, and gone before you can hold them. Tonight's image is for that hour.
she unfolded the dusk
crease by crease,
until only the violet remained —
and flew on wings of almost-night.
crease by crease,
until only the violet remained —
and flew on wings of almost-night.
A Moment to Hold
Twilight is the shortest season, yet it holds the whole day's gentleness. Let this crane carry one quiet thought across the dark water tonight — a worry you can finally set down.
Until Tomorrow's Light
Dream in folds and soft colors. Tomorrow, the paper unfolds into something new.
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