Dusk Painted Pastures

A dwindling light threads the dimming woods into mist-coated shadows. A stretch of gray-sheened water reflects the phantom forms of homing wings, skimming birds that must seek now a dark cradle of shelter. The sun has drowned yet still rides a rippling after-image. All the weary hunters, the bustling gatherers, and weed-waders return now to a coverlet of listening silence, a nocturnal dormitory where noiseless owls quest for the slightest hint of moonlit eyes.