Watchers of Dusk.

Weighted flight of twilight winds Soft-spoken words to dusks horizon Strident turns of brazen acrobatics Scything high on the thermals of sunset Ashen wan of the moons glow staring down The misted bogs reverberating nights rhythm Mountainside forests in balanced freefall Inside the numbed canter of sinuous shadows All wafting below their carrion flocks Voiceless guardian sitting high in the pines Camouflaged within transforming silhouettes Ironed talons gripping grief-stricken branches Upon the harvest moon they portentously gather Absorbing the last breath with deep onyx eyes The dying of the day…dusk falls