Silver light washes the sky-
I read my own poetry
as a late cardinal chips
praying thanks for each seed.
The little striped ones-
they bounce down the strandboard
that makes paths through the gardens
faces swollen with seed to save.
Copper and water make music-
invisible now in deepened dusk
each note calls the dark down
and the water cools with the night.
Old dogs snore and groan-
Brown Dog stretches across the couch
upside down to air her pink belly
while Black Dog, deaf now, sighs.
One car sweeps down the road-
far sirens sing long and low
silence pulls the shade
and your footsteps creak the stairs.