Rooks on the lawn

The afternoon is shutting down. Its

sky blue doors are closing for the day

and, as the lights begin to dim, the

hectic calls of the day time fall almost

silent while the birds seek their

nightly roosts. But all is not quite still

yet. It is too early 

for the nocturnal dance but 

in a final flurry we hear 

the clatter and flap of the last

waltz and as I look out 

into the coming gloom I see 

a memory of the light 

reflected in the raucous sheen

of rooks on the lawn.