I stand, looking out from the hill
toward the south
lean against one of the corner posts.

Dust rises on Randolph Road
behind a car too far away to hear
as it crosses the bridge.

Somewhere between
the dark of the trees
and the dull edge of the field

there is a seam
where the creek runs against
the base of the bluff

and the line of the earth
changes from vertical
to horizontal.

In this fading haze of dusk,
that change is lost
in the husk of the hills

darkening,
softening
letting go.

Light fog forms
along the creek,
low on the pasture.

The edges blur
in this tired light
and I am ready for rest.

H. Arnett
8/19/10