I sit in the quickening darkness
The birds last song of the evening
giving way to the night chorus of peepers.
The panting of the dogs
as they tire themselves out
struggling over one last stick.
Eventually, even they settle
and there is only the soft padding of feet
and gentle jangle of tags as they choose
the best spot to watch me
as the light fades.
In the darkness I smell
the rich, clean smell
of freshly turned earth.
And I am comforted
knowing even in the blackness