They rest under the lilac tree and the water, the water is all around. On blade and grass and leaf and limb.
Dappled the sunlight through the darkening, creeping in becoming the subtle colors that underline the changing.
Pines line the horizon and green grass is still and looks like a velvet cloth draped over the ancient contour. Steadily they rise and into the sky.
Back over the yonder way, where the valleys lead to the bay, where the restless waters play and the ancient sailors sway beneath the blue yonder out beyond the night, into the day, again, until the wax is gone and the curtain collapses.