Member-only story
POETRY
Evening
earth draws the cloak of twilight
across its shoulders
buttons it up slowly, to the chin
dons a scarf studded with stars
flicks up a hooded cloud
for shade against the sly eye of the moon
a new short season of darkness
starts to click into place
softening the air, the ground
sends up a scent of what
ministrations take place beneath the soil
the trees exhale
the garden rests
and meanwhile from burrows
and rocky nooks, eyes gaze out
piercing the dusk, wide awake now
after spending the sunlit hours
fast asleep
our evening is their dawn
the sundown world belongs to them
It thrills me to see noctural animals in our backyard: possums don’t visit often, but I love it when they do. Thank you for reading!
