The sun stuck--
hung in the pines all night.

It turned out--
forever was a field at dusk, frozen golden,
and the end is endless evening--
final fall.

It was Autumn. Leaves grew gold--
glittered, crumbled
like rust.

Snow fell too soon.
A blanket of water.

Only then did we notice
the shadows.

Long blue ghosts,

slanting off our bodies
at angles,

pulling us Eastward.


                                                     ­              -km