the setting sun, bleeding light across the vast sky.
cicadas hidden, rasping sleepy songs amongst the leaves.
faerie, discarding daylight disguises of bird and cricket,
tramping through the hills, watching me shyly from between branches.
the rising moon, an aloof mystery now close enough to touch.
a soft twilight wind stirring, bearing whispered words in a language lost.
the eldritch torches of fireflies stitching stories in the fragrant air,
stories i deciphered, and told to the trees, and to the shadows, and to the stars.