Toward the last of this plein air Sunday in late September,
twilight washes sky, clouds, trees, and earth nearer night;
thus end of day, said to be good, very good, dawn to dusk.
Close to the darkening house, just beyond a still-open door,
a Carolina wren flutters the hydrangea, watercolors the air
with brief song, with after-tones of first palette and wet paper.
No comments:
Post a Comment