Last night’s twilight slipped across the sky in muted layers — a quiet blend of fading colour, soft cloud, and the half‑moon’s pale glow behind drifting haze. Standing there with the camera, I felt the day thinning into something slower, dimmer, almost weightless.
From that hush, this small poem emerged — a reflection on how light, taste, and time blur at the edges as evening diffuses into night.


What Do You See 355
For WDYS, Sadje offers us a photo by Lensloji (Pexels) of a murmuration of birds forming a shifting pattern above a city skyline and minaret at sunset.
Opaqueness
Time is colourless,
yet daytime becomes darkness
as evening clouds advertise
twilight’s transient demise.
Time is tasteless,
yet midnight is infused with blackness
except for the half-moon’s translucent
loving spoonful of notilucence.
And in the quiet blur between knowing and not knowing, this song finds its way.
Ivor Steven © August 2026




























