Photo by James Dixon

Photo by James Dixon

 

Evening In Ninety-nine Syllables

 

I walked in the garden this evening
And saw the tallest roses swaying;
The trees' greenest branches were bobbing—
The breeze moved each one of us just then.
And here the robin was digging deep,
And was hopping there under the thorns,
Searching. And I wondered what she'd find.
Above, our deep blue sky turned dusk gray.
One star or two began to bleed through.
Strange, that a young moon always smiles bright,
It seems, while chasing the sunset light.


-Swami Ambikananda Saraswati