An end of day walk at the edge
Of dusk. The woods lean into
The path, trees and wind confer,
A rustling language beyond me.
The dog trots along the path,
Uninterested in the language
Of leaves, nose to the earth.
The day, a mixture of weather,
Had not chosen a season,
Confused by memory, lost
In revery at the edge of
An ever darker pond.
Shadows on the path ahead
Lengthen, creatures from
Another world struggle to
Become part of this one.