I walk away
from the glare of
safety lights
into the blue twilight
of mid September dawn
In the near dark
I play a game
What tree
do I see?
I know
oak, basswood, ash
by their shapes
Beneath familiar
pine trees
a scattering of cones
some palm sized
some no bigger
than a thumbnail
In the tall grass
an orchestra of insects strums
For a moment
the wind breathes
strong enough
to drown out
engines in the distance
The sky is lightening
to paler blue
with one star
winking
among
the clouds
