Night Music

bluish, pink-lined clouds backlit by fading light, and anchored like stalled spaceships,
hover near the horizon, sun setting like a giant half circle strobe tuner,
flickering red and orange colors balance evening notes, cattle lowing in the pasture

warm breeze judders tiny white silk z patterns, plucking gauzy strands
like a chordophone, yellow and black orb weaver knows this is not a predator,
only the vibrations of chords, music she alone hears

warm breeze lightly fingers reeds lining the creek bank, flute sounds,
breaths across the mouth of a coke bottle, low register notes, diminuendo

crickets rubbing wings together, sizzle like bacon, frogs preet-preeting,
quacking and bleating--the ensemble coalesces into a ratcheting, coarsely sanding sound,
blending like Latin guiros and cabasas in the prelude to an old Steely Dan song

coyotes sniff the air, traces of last night’s blood lingering in the back of their throats,
picking up the musky scent of goats bedding down for the night--high pitched yelps
pierce the dark, their frantic cries like ethereal jazz saxophones screaming
impossible altissimo ranges--tails flat against flanks, heads hung low
between gray-brown jutting shoulder blades, moving in a sure-footed trot

mockingbird reads the opaque crystal ball moon, fading into the blue-gray distance,
a sorceress mimicking a far-off car alarm, quick clarion bursts, warning sleeping goats--
coyotes frightened back into their green mossy dens, beneath uprooted trees,
and nightbird singing the coda, she signals the end of night.