Sketch

Furrows of bronze swathe the sky in
this twilit awe-golden bluewash
of an evening looking down on fields of
birds and a forest in smoke and skeleton-brush:
clustered, ringed and grass-lapped.
Drinking the sound of dusk-trapped day,
dozing cloudfall vistas glower clod-trodden -
crusting fleck and feel, peelable. Strokable.
Crescendo-attainable through panes
of green and grainy mirrors of world:
That still moment between day and dusk
when the grass glows harder than the sky.