Under the Cloak of Darkness

Under Cover of Darkness


The setting sun scatters its last rays on the tips of the tallest trees, slipping like
a fly into horizon's spiderlike grip. Owls trumpet darkness while morning's earliest
bird crouches comfortably in the crook of a small branch to sleep, murmuring
sweetly into her feathery breast. A pair of bats swoops down, lithely moving from tree
to tree with mute precision.

The frogs in the creek bleat a kind of soft comforting chant while evening's soothing
breezes scatter the petals from the apple tree onto the ground below. The night air is
rich with spring blooms. The meadow that was dry and barren just a few weeks ago
sprouts green grass with the gift of nightly showers. The youngest saplings create
a placid darkness that is healing. The light of each day tumbles down through us into
night. We leave our day's labor to its own place, to sleep like the dog on the porch,
stretched out and peaceful.






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