The Witching Hour

Twilight, its my favorite hour of the day.  The farm is buzzing with activity.  Barn swallow and bat, bird and mammal pass each other in flight, circling - one graceful the other awkward.  This is all they know of each other, this daily transition, this brief encounter.

There is a special alchemy in the air.  Deepening blue above the bright horizon.  Sharp silhouettes replace soft shapes.  The barn beams its whiteness and looms larger on the landscape.  Colors slip away into the night.  Activity settles.  The first bright star appears through the branches of the oak.  Coolness descends. The grass becomes wet. A robin's alarm briefly breaks the silence.  I like this place.  Its an oasis.