Spirits of the Bog
Beneath the twilight’s reddened glow
where silvered waters softly flow,
the maples flame against the reeds
and bullfrogs leap and hide in weeds.
Beneath the twilight’s reddened glow
where silvered waters softly flow,
the maples flame against the reeds
and bullfrogs leap and hide in weeds.
We watch the fading back of darkness edge / sway and feel the shrinking chill on flesh /which lies-or is it mouths?- in cooling air; / averse to moving from our rumpled bed.
I pin my wash in silvered light to soft chorale of laughing leaves, the twittering of sparrows back, this golden …