Where Sunset Has Already Come

The sun is low in the west, hovering above the trees on the far side of the lake. A slow breeze is moving thru the woods, a gentle ending to a gentle day during which scarcely a wave rose on the water.

A chipmunk dashes into his secret home in the undergrowth. A daddy longlegs lumbers across the fallen leaves of the forest floor. The last sun rays of day shoot between the tree trunks, leaving puddles of gold sprinkled about the oaks and maples and tall white pines. Glimmering light reflects off the water and dances on the silver undersides of the maple leaves.

And a lone thrush is calling from deep in the woods, where sunset has already come.

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