I went out upon the hill
at the ending of day
to cut some bales of hay
and to look around at the twilight.
It was as red a day as the
deep heart's fire light,
thick and clear with the
electric glow of summer ending.
Perhaps I wanted you to be there,
and for us to share without words
the mystery of tears in our
Or perhaps the thought of you,
as I stood alone, looking, was
what was there for me, the day,
and the cause of my own eyes' mist.