At the insistence of dusk,
stars spark along the ridge top-
torches of ancient suns
lighting the evening paths of fox and hare.
Old oak shadows
stretch, reaching for twilights embrace,
dissolving into the darkling night
as the trees take up a low chant, shaking
winter weariness from their spring fired blood.
Ridgetop to ridgetop,
the bonfires of spring awaken-
bright lamps of bloom ignite in the silver starlight,
illuminating the April wood.