Nightly

The lingering light invites me out these evenings, and there I watch the oak branches, newly decorated with clusters of leaves, darken to silhouettes against the cerulean sky. The birds fall silent and the frogs begin to croak, but the air is quiet. Later, I know, the night wind will come, softly at first, then strongly enough to make the pines hum, but for a few hours there will be stillness, and the moon will rise and turn the stars pale, and the fresh scents of spring will fill the world. There is no chill to send me back into the house. Nothing not essential will get done for the next few evenings, I suspect. Spring commands it. I am content to obey.

( Sunday Verse )