Into Night
Gray on the path, my shadow
lengthens then disappears. Pitch pines
edge into dusk. Here at the swamp,
twilight falls in degrees—first at
the sky’s edge, into the treetops, and
then through underbrush on both sides
of a path edged with bracken and vines.
To the right of our car, a fox moves
through trees, into and out of focus.
Suddenly, a night bird rises, lifts
the water’s sound, and becomes
the sky. Crickets and katydids chirp.
Something small rustles in the
underbrush. I don’t wonder where
love or the sun went, or why anything
else should matter but the startling
peace of this moment, the night’s
long body, the stars’ white fire.
Author: Adele Kenny
Photo: Elise Zimmerman on Unsplash
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