I have come here once again to feel this breeze,
To walk among the trees in late evening: 
Cottonwood and sycamore,
Oaks and elms and a few pignut hickory.

I pause along the river road, study the glow
Of a solitary shaft of sun filtering through the woods
And caught on the base of the bluff 
Beside the blackened trunk of an old elm
That almost survived the fire a decade ago.

A beam of light backlights a clump of nettle 
On the south shoulder of the old logging road,
Sparkling its short bloom towers in glistening white
And turning leaves to neon against the stark silhouettes
Of their own stalks and stems.


I climb up the steep trail beside the old quarry,
Trying to hurry my way back to the top
Before the sun makes its final drop below the horizon.
Just below the final ledge, I double-time the trail
That follows the edge of the narrow ridge,
Then scramble up the last line of weathered rock
Just in time to catch the last few minutes
Of a red-ball sun sagging into the horizon.

A few leaves of sumac glow red
As the last, least bits of color fade
In the dimming haze of sunlight
Leaching from the sky in the blue trace
Of a low ridge a dozen miles from here,
Just west of the Arkansas River
Before it makes its eastward turn
Just south of Ark City.

These limestone boulders shoulder a few clumps of thin grass
Along the hard line of Inspiration Point.
An afternoon's worth of bright sun
On the first Saturday of September
Packed its heat into this lichen patterned seat.

Miles of Kansas and Oklahoma ripple seams of green,
Splotched patterns of trees and beans 
And a few broad swaths of freshly disked bottom ground,
Rusted earth beyond the bleached sand bordering the river.

Chinkapin branches weave slightly in the wind,
A gentle moving of the Spirit
And the nearness of the breath of God
To those listening for his voice
Below the chorus of katydids and cicadas,
And the murmuring of old branches
Soft above the shimmering stalks of native grasses.

In the solitary stillness of coming night,
I watch the last bits of light fade from the day,
Embrace the coolness of these gentle shadows,
A gentle refreshing of day’s blessed ending,
Sweet promise of the night’s sending of coming rest.


H. Arnett
9/5/2023