The picture of bright green trees and yellow flowers

ripples like the surface of an interrupted pond

when viewed through eyes full of tears.

The red clay softens when our tears drop,

and the hawk overhead flies faster toward home.

The pinks and golds of sunset have gone,

but dusk's lingering blue light allows grief to stay a while.

Soon little stars and an almost full white moon will appear,

and the memory of dusk is all that will carry us through night.