Lying in the Grass at Twilight
In the thick retreating light, I find warmth in that last embrace, Lying here with shadows of trees, That mingle visions, And the air a-run with grace.
My heart finds home in each whispering breeze, While tiny wild eyes embrace frail dreams— And know it is the season flowing, With colors symphonic blushing Light-hearted hues of what can’t be seen.
- Gwendolyn Brooks