the earth cools
             releases its scent                         like spores

                          secreting poisons.

the whole world dies down a little
                                                in need of a bit of rest.

dewdrops enter you through a wound
              in your hand, your foot, your mouth, you

never knew was there

                                                                until it existed.

everything is washed in this cool blue we will call
                            dusk:

             the grass, the aspen, the cricket’s
                                              song droning on and on

             like some sad jazz tune.                          heat

rises and rises,       until finally someone turns on
                 every single star.