On an evening swimming in swelter,
field lies wrapped in the greens of ryegrass
& moss & bindweed, stippled by musk thistle’s
magenta spikes, while white pine stretches its limbs
under a sky softening to haze, & rock wall girdling acre
cools since sun’s slow shambling departure for the underworld.  

And then twilight deepens, alighting from the distance, steps
onto fields, hooves the color of oak trees, grey-purple
robes rustling, shifting into shadows, whirling
a dervish tune like crickets’ throbbing trill,
looses bats’ serrated flight overhead,
stirs hares into skittering over  

clover & across meadow
like moonlit shards
brief & bright.