At Dusk

orange-blue pearls 

beaded on trees

shaped by the mountains

that soon rest at ease

​

blades of fine grass

whistle their song

the width seems to chant

mighty tunes along

 

sunken long fields

dandle their corn

a cradle at night

where whispers are born

 

fleeing dusk-sky

tucking me in

I saw with your eyes

the magic within