Evening Song

In the nearly dark tree

out on the bright edge,

it clings to tender leaves,

rides the wind-swayed branch

and sings.

Small bird,

red as the falling sun,

cries his evening song …

to tarried mate?

to fading sky or

guardian tree?

Drawn deep to darkest night,

I cannot read this creature’s

pure mind; but his breath

leaves my raptured soul bereft.


(4/19/2011)