Facing Southwest, June 14, 5:50 P.M.


Shadows lean to the left from a clump of pines,
Along the ridge of a bland hill. Closer up,
Rocks on the clay bank sweat in the cooling shadow
Of overhanging weeds. Light enters the few shrubs
From the right, reddish, filtering through a coolant
Of shovel-shaped leaves to emerge as bluish shade.
An odor of pines: branches relax and flex,
Grasses scissor and shuffle in a lull
Of water noises. The car keys jingle.