Gloaming, Bernie White Hatcher
rainbow hues lengthen
as the sun nears
its horizon bluing
the trees the roof
of the distant sheds lavender clouds
preside over evening
vespers a candle-lit moment soft

when I first moved
in the ground was nearly bereft of life
my gnarled hands carried water reviving green foliage every sprout painstakingly tended but today’s
rows diverge ragged
as my wheezing

though I can’t see
the vanishing point
from where I sit,
I hear the nighthawk
murmur its benediction between the falling light
and rising darkness
its wings bending time calling me to fly
beyond porous bones

Pat Martin