Above the eastern horizon black clouds

Gathering, coalescing, becoming twilight

Coming earlier now and colder, the darker

Weather of winter approaching closer.

Today the path filling with wet black leaves

And tomorrow frost filling my footprints,

The sun no more than a faint apparition,

White light without warmth in thin trees.

The snowy owl will enter into its name

But now there is one goose gliding low

Into the dusk and now lifting higher,

One brief call, and now the long silence.