Autumn By Straw Light

Between the reaching shades of tall trees copper-leafed hillocks’ catch fire, ghost flames burnish the slow stealth of evening. A translucent straw-light seen only through the thumb hole of a painter’s pallet, or in that late sunlit wash, that blooms so openly that eyes miss it. Redolent are the long shadows dipped as they are in rich earthy scents. The flaxen hay is layered between timbered silhouettes, where gossamer ribbons of vapor hazes-over honeyed acers. Softly a lambent buoyancy of evening blends amber and russet wisps with hues of sorrel and orange. A mellowing sky drapes over the fields a chiffon fan of muted rays. The tawny straws turn slowly, all unclear to daylight eyes, but by this eventide we will view this ebbing day through a golden glass.