November Sunsets

Dusk does not linger at this time of year,

Not like July,
when a sunset walk takes me around the pastures and hay fields,
allows me to linger at the pond,
and listen to the bullfrogs,
and wonder when darkness will ever come,
so I may fall into bed, tired after soaking up so much sunshine.

Tonight I am in the wheat field, just minutes from home,
taking the dogs on their after-work walk,
and pondering work, chores, holidays, life.
When I look up, the dogs are silhouettes.
By the time I return home,
I'll be lucky to spot white-tipped tails.

Star-Filled Walks: Part 1

In November, I mourn the lack of sunlight for dog walks.

Now, most of our walks are under a lightening sky, a darkening sky, a dark sky.

Our 5 a.m. greet-the-morning walk, though, always takes place under a dark sky. At this time, the world seems the quietest.

The coyotes and other night creatures have gone to bed; and most humans and day creatures have yet to awake. I hear very little engine noise and see fewer, if any headlights.

Warmer-than-usual temperatures and calm winds have made these walks pleasant and unhurried this fall, and I find myself looking up at the sky, the clusters of stars, the stars that outshine the others.

On so many mornings, I've watched a star shake loose from its moorings, fall and fade.

As I wish on those shooting stars, I think how lucky I am and wonder if someone, somewhere, is doing the same.