After She Left

 

Dusk sneaks up on me,

creeps onto these pages

I'm trying to read

from Donald Hall's poetry.

His wife, poet Jane Kenyon, is dying.

Their future together looks dark;

but their love is a bright fire

burning with intensity.

He promises to keep

the remaining embers

glowing forever

in his plaintive heart.

So he wrote letters to her,

and wrote poems about her,

for many years

after she left.

© 2026 Richard Havenga

 

Photo Locations:

1. Grattan Township - Kent County - Michigan

2. Lafayette, Colorado

Mood of Gratitude

 

The evening sky is being brushed

by the subtle grays of dusk.

Tints of lavender paint the clouds.

Warm pinks reflect on the river.

A comforting mood of gratitude

for another  good day of life.

© 2026 Richard Havenga

Photo Location: Grand River - Grand Rapids, Michigan

You may also enjoy another Gratitude poem: "Reaching" ~ July 13, 2025.

Surrendered

 

Shadows of twilight

smothered the foothills,

climbed the mountain heights.

Last spears of sunlight

pierced thickening clouds,

then surrendered to the night.

© 2025 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations: Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming

Room Enough

 

As the silver light of day

turns apricot, turns plum,

the Snowy Egrets

begin to glide in

to their roosting tree

on a small island

in a small pond.

Room enough for all

as day becomes dusk.

© 2025 Richard Havenga

Photo Location: Vista Plantation - Vero Beach, Florida

Words Obscured

 

The slow summer heat

loitered into mid-September,

so I lingered on the deck

until my written words

were obscured

by the deepening dusk,

and contentment

filled my cup.

© 2024 Richard Havenga

Last Light

 

Dark silhouettes of Canada Geese

hurry past, on their way

to the shallow wetlands

of Saul Lake Bog;

gliding in low,

arriving at dusk,

as calm water

catches the day's last light,

and the soft breasts

of settling geese.

© 2024 Richard Havenga

Photo Location: Saul Lake Bog Nature Preserve

Quiet Words

 

Usually, the words

emerge from the quiet.

In the silence of dawn

before the first birds awake.

On the smooth table of water

before the minnow jumps.

During the slow approach of dusk

before the tree crickets chirp.

At the golden glow of moonrise

when wavelets waver the light.

© 2024 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Home Fields - Cannonsburg, Michigan

2. Crooked Lake - Kent County - Michigan

vowels

 

A Mourning Dove

the color of river mud,

the color of autumn dusk,

puffs up its breast feathers

and murmurs a soft lament;

cooing up and down the scale.

Emphasizing the vowels "o" and "u".

Repeating the question "who?"

© 2023 Richard Havenga

Play the Mourning Dove call:  https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Mourning_Dove/

Photo Locations:

1. & 2. Canon Township - Kent County - Michigan

Our Cardinals

 

Our cardinals

begin singing at dawn

and linger into dusk.

The last to dine at the feeders.

They like to nest

in the dense branches

of our viburnum and hawthorn.

Weaving strands of wild grape vines.

Cardinals are common,

loyal and hardy.

They look spectacular

in the white of winter.

© 2023 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations: 

1. 2. 3. Home

4. Townsend Park - Kent County - Michigan

Feels Like

 

After the sun sets

behind the mountains,

as dusk gradually arrives,

there is a slight breeze

that rolls softly

down the shoulders

of the foothills.

It feels like

a prayer of gratitude

to finish this blessed day.

© 2023 Richard Havenga

Photo Location:

Moran, Wyoming (with the Grand Tetons peeking through)

Indoors

 

The long daylight

of our summer days

has diminished,

has been replaced

by late afternoon dusks.

Dusks that introduce

nights of long darkness.

So, less time outdoors

for work and recreation,

but more time indoors

for quiet hours of reading,

and time for writing

poems about light.

© 2022 Richard Havenga

Photo Location: Loveland, Colorado

Gracious

 

I pray

that my poems

will express

what I'm trying to say.

And not fly around erratically

like a Painted Lady butterfly,

or like  Little Brown Bats

darting and diving in the dusk.

I would prefer

that my poems

rise softly, subtly,

and surely, like the dawn.

Then illuminate

my readers

like the morning light

on jeweled prisms of dew.

And in the reading

perhaps feel my hand

on your shoulder

offering encouragement.

And know that

I want to share 

my feelings of  gratitude

with you.

For one of the gifts

of the writer,

is the presence

of a gracious reader.

© 2022 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Home Fields - Cannonsburg, Michigan

Until

 

The meadowlark is silhouetted

in the dimming light of dusk.

I heard his musical song

sung for the last time today.

Then the silence of the night

embraced the spacious prairie.

Until the secretive crickets

started filing their raspy instruments.

© 2022 Richard Havenga

Photo Location:

Crow Indian Reservation - Crow Agency - Montana

Contours of Creation

 

Inside the contours of creation,

God hides while we seek.

From the vast oceans of the earth,

or within the least little raindrop,

He is present in His creation.

In the first glimpse of sunlight

at the edge of dawn,

He is shining bright with promise.

In the last glimpse of sunlight

before the arrival of dusk,

He is shining bright with hope.

© 2022 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Muir Beach Overlook - California

2. Home Fields - Cannonsburg, Michigan

3. Home Woods - Cannonsburg, Michigan

4. Estero, Florida

Theatre in the Sky

 

The sky is a stage

with rapidly-changing sets

suspended above the earth and its

slowly-changing scenes.

A multiplicity of birds 

performs in the theatre of the sky.

Winged props suddenly appearing,

then flying offstage. 

A variety of clouds

make their appearance.

Expanding, contracting, diminishing,

passing on.

The backdrops and lighting

constantly changing.

I am privileged to be

in the premium seats.

A new script is written every day,

with brand new props

for an attentive audience

arriving in this arena.

I am eager for each performance;

ready for the change of scenery

when the curtain of dusk falls

and a new drama begins,

in the night sky.

© 2022 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Eagle Lakes Park - Naples, Florida

2. Colorado

3. Flathead Lake - Montana

4. Longmont, Colorado

5. Catalina, Arizona

Losing Light

 

Dusk carries a delicate sadness;

especially in autumn,

when daylight diminishes

day to day.

You look up through the trees,

and the splotches of bright

you expected to see

have already grown dim.

Your time spent outdoors shortens;

precious time on the deck,

valuable hours of reading,

memorable moments of writing,

eating lunch and dinner

in the summer sun,

while listening to birds

in the background,

hidden in the woods.

Losing nearly three minutes a day;

a difficult adjustment

when you love the outdoors,

but must come indoors

after the delicate dusk

descends.

© 2021 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Ada Dam - Thornapple River - Ada, Michigan

2. Home Deck - Cannonsburg, Michigan

3. Loveland, Colorado

The Show

 

Outlined

in the deepening dusk,

erratic silhouettes

zig and zag for insects.

Swooping in one-hundred-foot circles.

Disappearing, reappearing,

fluttering on wings of skin

just above the canopy of oaks.

It's a fascinating show, so,

watch it while you can,

before the fading light

dims to darkness;

though the show

continues

into the night,

unseen.

© 2021 Richard Havenga

You may also enjoy: "When" ~ July 31, 2013

Video Location: Home Woods ~ Cannonsburg, Michigan

Each Day

During the long list of days

that has made up your life,

have you noticed how each one

opens differently?

And how each day's close

is never the same?

No matter the number of days

you have accumulated,

each dawn and sunrise

should be a surprise.

Every dusk after sunset

should leave no regret.

Cloud formations grow then dissolve,

changing by the minute.

The water in the mountain stream today

is not the same as yesterday.

This week's wildflowers will be dying

when next week's  begin to blossom.

And the birds?

Each and every day of their short lives,

they unravel their sweet songs,

and live.

© 2021 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Telluride, Colorado

2. Ada Township - Kent County - Michigan

3. Goodwillie Environmental School - Ada Township - Kent County - Michigan

 

Windows

In memory of Peter Draugalis Sr. (June 29, 1895 ~ September 10, 1959)

When I was eleven,
my upstairs bedroom was small,
but my responsibility was large.

I had to pray hard every day
for the cancer to go away
from my grandpa,
who had to go away
to a special hospital
in Ann Arbor
for those mysterious
cobalt treatments. 

He had no windows
in his hospital room.
I didn't think this was fair
for a man who loved
to be outdoors,
for a man who loved
to hunt and fish,

for a man I loved
when he let me hunt
between himself and my dad.

They would send me
into brush piles,
down the swales,
through briers and brambles.

If I "jumped a rabbit",
one of them would fire his shotgun.
Grandpa carried a 20-gauge.
Dad had the stronger 12-gauge.

I longed to hear that gunshot
again in October;
only a month away.

As I stared out my window,
I studied the east fencerow,
tangled with thick brush;
sumac and saplings
hung with wild grapevines,
maybe a rabbit hiding
in the dense briers that
curled along the ground.

I watched out my window
as dusk arrived.
I listened out my window
as a whip-poor-will
sang his melancholy song.

I prayed out my window:
"Please God, give Grandpa
a little more time."

© 2020 Richard Havenga

Endnote: 

Today, in my upstairs bedroom, I have two shotguns: a 12 gauge, and a 20 gauge.

Reaching the Moon

Scattered clouds are dissipating
as the evening breeze subsides.
Dusk becomes a deeper gray.

Now is the time to watch
Little Brown Bats fluttering 
above and between treetops;
occasionally reaching the moon.  

© 2020 Richard Havenga

Video Location: Home Woods - Cannonsburg, Michigan