A moonlit-scape
The Shadows flow away from solid
as the slanting light
ebbs away; breaking the day.
A star strewn rest
stands guard
and silver orb
bobs in the midst
creating half-life shadows
within the greater dark.
Babbling brook freed
from harsh light's busyness
now carries its own melody
as if a thousand tiny bells
gurgle
happy
in their own company.
Bruised reed's scent
now lingers
no longer to be drowned out
by the greening heat
but now free to seep
into frigid air.
A mist gathers before sight
The fox
cries bloody murder,
and for that missing
beat
the heart can glimpse
its coming defeat.
With thanks, not this night.
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