A fondness for twilight

and for dawn,

touches everyone.

Both are connection;

but not like the hazy horizon

of summer dusk across the lake —

where only God can discern

where water ends and sky begins.

Like the tapestry of the still or moving train,

they are also the clang and clasp

of the couplings that hold the cars together;

the patterns of time’s passage:

together . . . and apart.

Still as a swan,

or vanished into the blue blur of the day;

driven or at rest;

rich with dreams and hope . . .

or barren as the far side of the moon.

The powerful attraction

is transition —

tension relieved

in seeing and feeling the fruit

of expectation grown ripe

in the moment . . . calm.

Dawn and twilight hold fast together

the day and the night

that neither may be lost to the other;

no matter awareness, distance, or difficulty —

and no matter any hazy sense

of where and when,

or to what purpose

arrives the next station.