Strange silence settles
Sun almost hidden behind
Blue grey cloud
Wood pigeons that clattered and
Called are poised and mute for
The turning, the shortness of night.
Duskside, rose petals fall,
Confetti of summer
Pinning their place on
The wheel of the year
And the air is thick as thunder
While darkness falls, blanket of cloud
Mantles the sun and
Tucks it under.