The moon, aloft already
in the hazy sky to the south,
illuminates like a dim bulb, and yet
the tall canary grasses
in the fields next door shine
below a moody line of evergreen.
In the distance, a bull frog
echoes another, and a young girl,
so far away only the rising lilt of her voice
can be heard, asks a question in the dark.
There is no other sound, except the tires
of a faraway car as it rolls along the highway.
A mist rises up across the far acres,
and the coyotes begin to sing
in the woods just across the way.