In the world under the moon, the shadows stretched and leapt.
Soon everything coasting the extenuating waves would be
So much quieter. For that quiet to happen, other things had to go.
In the meantime, there was a certain quiet in anticipating
The greater quiet to come. A lizard ran along a split rail fence.
Gnats danced in the sun, and the creek, nearly dry, continued
To run. I waited for the green flash of a future bird nestled
Into more gentle rivulets, but imagination must know when it goes
Looking for anything so elegant it's only imagination it finds.
No day ever waveless, no natural history held up
An annunciation of a season of fullness that ever held still.
The cottonwoods would yellow and fall until the creek filled, and then
Something else would waver through the air where leaves had been.
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