The Gloaming


Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash

Before the orange ball of fire hides

behind trees in the cemetery,

Long Mountain,

and the Blue Ridge,

it lights up the peonies, wisteria,

the stone sentinels,

and farmlands carved into

the hillside to the east,

putting its positive glow

on the petty worries of the day,

the unfulfilled longings

and wasted hours

while the glow inside from the

television highlights the riots,

the terror, and the unrest —

young men and women

in black shirts holding signs,

most pleading for justice,

and others, bending those pleas

to their own will.

The division between

them and us widens

into a chasm, distancing

everyone who is of an

opinion other than ours.

Some are born into darkness

by hateful hearts

and fear losing themselves

in a crowd of glistening colors.



Joanne Zarrillo Cherefko

Award-winning educator and published poet: A Consecration of the Wind, Fragmented Roots, and Souls Tilled Like Soil. Website: