Evening gloaming, night comes softly, its breath on my face.
Darkling sky, the storm-purple clouds embrace my bright smiling moon.
Blue Heron glides, like a dragon into the west, toward the last fire-pink light.
A long glance from the eye of my silent friend as I lay a hand on his coat.
A stillness framed by motion. A moment.
Quiet, peace, energy, healing.
I'm not much of a poet, but sometimes one must try. Quite a night here, with my buddy Jasper, standing on this earth, drunk on this air.