dusk is falling blue on the roof tiles indigo on the white painted porticos, navy in the sky dusk is falling softly like dust in this quiet place - the imperceptible movement of motes, of colour, falling like manna from above in here the electric lights are on, are blinding - I recall the dim tabernacle, the soft outlines of blue, the flickering golden candle in a chapel echoing softly to the soft voices of the nunsnext poem