Dusk in the Pines
A stillness in the darkened pines
O’er the bluegrass
No wind does wind
No questions will it ask.
From the meadows the dusk birds song
Strikes an eerie chord
Amongst floating needles green and long
Drifting wearily skyward.
Leaf litter on the stony grave
Dishonoured ‘neath small and scurrying feet
A name forgotten, perhaps fallen brave?
Sent to with its maker meet.
Why do shadows dance along the stream?
When earthly light abhors the water?
Perchance it be a fevered dream.
Complete with dark and quiet laughter?
The moon breaks clouded starlit skies
Reflects its face upon the rain
No wonder of its own demise
When the dawn crack slays her gaze again.
Copyright © The Red Rain | Year Posted 2016