This is my favorite time,
here at my desk:
the window open to the
lilting breeze, which makes
the leafy congregations whisper hymns
to the strings of kaytidian quartets.
In equal reverence I watch
the house behind slip into shadow,
the whole neighborhood subdued to rest.
I wish I could stay,
me and my book,
in the peaceful hour, when,
for a moment everything slows,
reflecting on the slow slip of time
in every sliver of sunset.