Evening, the dog circles maniacally, fixed on the scent of our garden rabbits,
fireflies light up around us, bedazzle in slow sensuous glow – so close,
the grass and clover are longer here in the back, more lush underfoot,
I do not know what is beyond the surround of trees about us

My mind is the rich green of forests, more evergreen than lime,
heathered with blue

The storm is coming, ocean air from far away,
treks hundreds of miles in hours, to adorn our impending night
with mysterious aromas, spicy and minty, perhaps freedom’s spirit

The dog gently pulls me uphill in a slow jog,
my ascent is eased by her effort, she anticipates the darkness,
already hears the distant thunder

At the crest of the rise, with night now certain,
we are surrounded – in a deep field of twinkle –
in awe amid the throbbing bioluminescent,
the rabbits far behind us

Chagall 2020