Suddenly the yellowing afternoon is still For Indian Summer breezes have slipped away While clouds of silent midges swirl against the sun For reasons of nature known only to themselves
The treeline is blue as evening comes on But the hayfields glow golden for a little while Until Old Sol falls asleep at last And the firstling stars come out to play
A rabbit shyly nibbles at the dewing grass – The day is over; we have to let it pass