Swallows swoop low

over gold-tinted fields;

silhouettes of grass

haloed with apricots and ambers and

waving in the evening breeze

like freshly scented hair.


The sun sinks;

the gold fades and

a squeeze of deep orange

pours across the horizon.


Cool air sets in

but still the insects endeavour;

floating and flitting

like motes of dust

between swaying shadows.


The sun slips away, leaving

a tangle of darting arrows

on a dark blue canvas

brushing tips and

swooping low on

a late




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