Nightfall

by Angela Prew

I am walking in the forest,
slowly, quietly,
as the trees darken,
fading into invisibility
and through their trunks
the sky blushes
painting the horizon
turquoise, rose, lavender
deepening into purple.
The birds return to roost
with a beat of wings
and silence settles
broken only by
the chatter of guinea fowl
at my feet.
Now, the moon rising
discovers ghosts, flickering
among the trees;
silver, eerie.
I shiver as a sudden
chill descends.

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