There is a comforting certainty
In this late November afternoon.
The earth is relenting its color
To the sky
With an almost gaudy display
As if to proclaim
Good night, to this departing day.
While life on a smaller scale, close by,
With a hope for rest and renewal.
As it wagers on the dawn.
Back to belly
In their milkweed down beds
In appropriated bluebird boxes.
Crows lumber overhead
Crossing the early crescent moon
Soon to roost and whisper secret stories,
While sparrows dart in the underbrush
Making final adjustments in their space,
Giving one last fluff to their feathers
They will cool with the night and be still.
A small bee that a month ago would
Have been lost in a grander world
Of blossoms and flying things
Now sits solitary
On a stray dandelion,
Within the grasp
Of those golden teeth.
A slow wind turns a hanging leaf,
A friend responding to an unspoken word,
Guaranteeing in benediction
Continued movement forward.