Confrontation at dusk

• 

Evening
the meadow stalks
and stands in ranks
of stalks
shoulder to shoulder
impenetrable.

Across the strip of mown green
untidy lavender tufts and sprawls of rose
face tight-ranked meadow grasses
tangled mass of burrowing
creeping root and stemmed blooms.

At evening
the meadow creeps closer
and in the dark
I hear its furtive rustle
spill through
the open window.