The Woods at Dusk

 

It’s dusk in late December and the woods are quiet. I stand on my backyard deck lost in the mystery of nature. Two squirrels chase each other through the snow and deepening shadows. I listen to the stiff maple trees creak in the breeze, and hear the soft click, click, click of empty sunflower shells landing on each other, dropped by wrens and finches at the feeder. The magenta of the sunset flows across the sky, then shifts to violet. 

December Evening

This evening in December is quiet, and the hills and fields are shaded in the sky’s pastel colors. Light has traveled beyond the earth’s edge and shadows will soon darken and lengthen into night. Nature begins to settle down into the blues and grays of winter.

I stand on my deck and listen to the woods — the creaking of the trees in the light wind, the light clack of empty black sunflower shells landing on each other, dropped by wrens and finches at the feeder. My thoughts move among the trees as I halfway watch the squirrels chase each other. Dusk fills the woods with shadows and I open to the mystery of what is here.