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.
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