Yellow

The earth is yellowing in the September sun.

It brings out the grain of the hills.

Evening lengthens. We sit at the top of the field after sunset, the half-moon still in the woods, and listen to the continuous loop of the crickets.

Decay is beautiful. We would end as the leaves, our best at the last.

The dogs lead us home in moonlight.

copyright 2010 J. O'Brien, all rights reserved