For the dverse prompt, a poem including the word, shade.
When the fiery sun slips into the west,
and darkness creeps across the shining sky,
I watch the shades grow among the grasses,
where the hare sits trembling and crickets sing.
Is this the anguish of the last day’s end,
when we hold our breath in the bone cage chest,
and the owl in silence glides where swallows
swooped in the sunlight without a care?
Will the stars appear in the darkling depths
and fill the night with a diamond sea,
or is this the rising tide of darkness,
that laps the black strand till the end of time?
Listen to the voice of the vixen calling,
the rustle of leaves in the poplar trees,
not the end but another beginning,
the cycle catches its moonlit tail,
the wild world is watching as the darkness gathers
and night walks the fields in her mantle of stars.