Prepare yourself; shadows
leaking over ridges
in the mountains
lengthen.
Not one but three
hawks circling
the fallen prize-
circling.
Blackness growing in
the toothless woods
hurries towards the valley
eating light.
Just outside the safety
of your house, evening
knows the secrets
of your heart;
prepare yourself, shadows
bringing home your grief,
a phantom of your sorrow.
