Last Light (poem)

Water shines like a time-darkened mirror
gathering the last shimmering glimmers
of day as light leaks over the horizon
into a river grown brighter than the sky.
A great blue heron leaps suddenly from the shadows,
long neck bent, gangling legs outstretched,
carrying the last shards of illumination
in its wing feathers.  A fisherman hooks
a trout that skips along the surface,
splashing more light than liquid, and reels
in the afternoon’s final sparks on a tiny fly
of hair and hackle.  Stunt pilot bats draw cool
nightfall from their caves and crevices as they dart
and swoop for dusk’s invisible insects. Dark
fingerprint swirls of current float
the sun’s faint lingering luster out to sea.