When dusk creeps, sudden,
The guards change places
Over the hill. The trees awake and sigh.
What do these woods mutter under a slow breath of breeze
Of rot and rain, of dawn and dusk
Of time devoid of numbers
Get out – they say.
Not yours by night,
By day, you stay.
Uninvited, to take the best
and worst among us.
Now you must go.
How shy they live among themselves
Theirs is the slow power of nameless darkest green