There’s a fire in the sky, but shadows to come.
Hummingbirds ceasing their prolix hum.
Unpredictable garage doors creak open on hinges
as fathers come home from their work or their binges.
Moms lean over fences, cranky from their labors,
putting off dinner to gossip with neighbors
as children stream home from playground or field
to see what computer or TV screens yield.
The strings of the day slow down to a strum
as day turns to night and the senses go numb.
Everything sinking, growing more deep.
Darkening, quieting, falling asleep.