Twilight

At that last pale moment when the light is an idea, 

I observe the small glow, and hold that carefully. 

Watch it dissolve into invisible darkness. 

And when the light has gone, a bluish feeling to the darkness 

draws the river home. Sheep walk along the side. 

Their breath, an envelope white as a host spirit.

I am enclosed in softness. Practice learning who 

I rehearse to be. Keeping the silence 

a thought of place and plan my sleep.

Dusk grows noir as a fall forward into gloved hands. 

Gentling the divide thinning to a grace note 

sounded silver threads of song in the night.