Darkness Knits Magic Over The Farm Fields

At dusk, the cornfields splinter

against the wind,
 deer pull their feet up delicately, 

marionettes lost in the careful dance 

of winding their smooth bodies through

twisting rows, escaping

the mysterious currents

of our wind while

spiderweb whips of cloud

filter lazily through an
 orange sky.

 
In the twilight, I gather

the last green leaves of summer

into my arms and try

to tie them together 

into a flower,

into a memory.