Upon the sweet southwesterly
Resin scented smoke is borne.
A small bird-hunting hawk calls out,
Whistling its cry as it darts,
Slicing pinions among the trees.
Last burst of fleeting sunlight
Drenches golden upon the grass
Procumbent quiescent leaves
From the maple yielded falling.
Swallowed by the dark rain wall
The western hills obscurely lie.
Rising wind bespeaks the squall.
That I might here upon the earth
Sit and stare into embers
With pulsing snapping glowing wink.
Breathing the seeping darkness
Delicately succinctly terse
The hiss of raindrops parting.
Amid the night, the starless night.
To be forever falling.