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 swoop down, lithely moving from tree to tree with mute precision.

The frogs in the creek bleat a 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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