Walking in the woods past sundown,
finding my way as much by habit
as by seeing in last light,
wide-eyed with the other animals
emerging as the humans leave the night,
time slows down and waits for me,
the pooling air becomes a sweeter song.
Is that because i have so little left to go,
or has it taken me this long to know
i've been living in a nocturne all along?
