How sweet the eve

at the end of the day

when dusk falls from the sky

and the stars stitch neatly in

and a soft breeze nuzzles

the sleepy leaves

and the wild moon climbs

to his lofty crest

and the earth swells up

to the taste of dew

a cooling hand on her brow

and the din and the fiddle

of bird and bee

and their songs of light

have come to rest

how sweet the sound

of the midnight hour

when a hush drifts in

around

and night lies down

to her feathery bower

and the milky clouds

weave an inky sea

and now

how sweet the entirety

to be as one

but a pulse

and a breath

Sara Mathews    December 2023

Photograph by Ingrid Mathews