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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476723" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>January Sunset</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">January sunset, clear blue sky, <br>peacock viridian with a wash of ultramarine, <br>warm for this time of year. <br>Ninety-nine percent of a full moon <br>waxing maculately ivory white in the east. <br>The threads of the little black creeks <br>that have frayed away from the strong rope<br>are the dissonant wavelengths <br>of baby snakes in the snow. <br>The willows orange against <br>the burnt umber backdropp <br>of a grove of pine, birch, maple <br>trying to keep some desperate secret to themselves. <br>Unkempt, wind-swept fields, <br>under an archipelago of snow, <br>the exhausted afterbirth <br>of cattle-corn and sheep <br>as if that were all they had to show <br>for the long hard labour of bringing forth life <br>as the stars are beginning <br>to emerge from the dark<br>as the prelude to something spectacular. <br>The air damp with the fragrance of snow <br>as the temperature drops cold-hearted <br>as the blood in the proboscis of a mosquito.<br>And way off in the misty distance <br>at the edge of the field<br>praying mantis hay-balers <br>arachnid hay rakes, <br>late triassic tractors <br>that look like dehorned stegasauri, <br>machines seized by rust, time, futility, <br>that have stood there so long, <br>patient dinosaurs enduring their extinction, <br>it would be less than human<br>not to feel sorry for them<br>or wish for some kind of astronomical catastrophe <br>that could make it up to them <br>without bringing the dead back to life<br>like clusters of houseflies fooled by the weather. <br>Lunar lichen and wet leaves <br>the colour of tanned leather <br>plastered like poultices <br>to the skeletal femurs<br>of a crippled cedar rail fence. <br>Buds on the New England asters <br>that will never bloom this side of spring, <br>moments in time <br>freeze-framed in space, <br>as if spring didn’t know when <br>to leave the party at the peak of her popularity <br>and over did it way past curfew at the group home.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476723" data-title="January Sunset de Patrick White" data-description="January sunset, clear blue sky, 
peacock viridian with a wash of ultramarine, 
warm for this time of year. 
Ninety-nine percent of a full moon 
waxing maculately ivory white in the east. 
The threads of the little black creeks 
that have frayed aw..."></div>
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