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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.

Copyright © Eric Ashford

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Book: Shattered Sighs