"It is the perfect time of day;
Mid-august, late in the evening when the cool, cool, thick air
That was hiding from the day
Starts to creep out from all of the really great, secret places.
It replaces the sun's heat with silent effort, like a slow, easy current;
Like the shadows that tenderly reach out to roll and stretch
Along with it;
Slightly more timid, but steady.
Then it beckons me and the low sun to come and
Peek in and see where it spent the day.
There, under the boughs thick with green.
There, deep, deep inside the long grass along the fence line.
There beneath the forest canopy, and the cedars near the swamp.
This rested air is filled with the liquor of a successful summer,
Graced by blossoms, rains, and the essential richening of the earth
In the heat.
And even now, it brings news of the coming fall.