loose gravel crunching loudly beneath me transposes
into the soft thudding of my feet against the soil.
the meadow, my old friend, greets me
with a whispering wind. we are both happy.

the sun dips just below the horizon,
watercoloring the sky in lilacs and siennas.
cicadas converse around me, as I am
but a guest at their lovely hillside home.

the cotton-swab clouds part, and the moon debuts.
she is pure, unsullied radiance. with the stars as backup,
and the sky as her stage, she pirouettes, beginning
her nightly routine. tears glide down my cheeks.

rich plums of dusk fade into the dark navies of night,
and my head sinks into pillowy grass.
my eyelids become lead, and the sandman arrives.
everything is quiet, and this peace is eternal.