Reflections upon a frozen field at dusk

The Schorching blaze
of the echoing sun
shines across the arid mesa--
a moment frozen and framed in blueish blacks
and spotted whites.

Only during the inbetween,
when Moon and Sun trade
into the escaliting day;

Only then, during this season
of chilled bones and warmed mugs
can such peace quicken the senses.

Warmer times hasten the turn quicker

Colder nights linger the Moon for too long.

It is only as Winter sings it's evening song
that we see our stars shine.

By: John Stewart