The stars floating down.
The lost echo
on a moonless night,
the slim silhouettes of trees,
enough to hide the animals.
Animals that look like you and me
in their wandering.
Tentative steps along a path
in the woods.
Unaware of their age or home.
They are just here,
moving from place to place,
finding warmth at the base of a tree in May,
winds coming in from the west.
Noises overhead
and underground.
Waking to a darkness
that becomes light
one way or another.
The stars floating down
into your hands and then gone,
most times, you don’t even know.
View up close in the gallery.
The treeline near my studio where I envision the animals moving at night.
