By Courtney Narmour

When the sun has extinguished its fire and the moon
Rises quietly in the deepening dusk,
The land beneath takes on a new identity. The woods
Are then the home of trees covered with diamonds
And silver deer that graze in the meadow’s deep quiet.
They glance up occasionally, their brilliant eyes shining.

Silver beams of light from the moon
Steal into the darkest corners of the woods.
The lake is shining
With a lustrousness like diamonds.
The call of the tree frog breaks the quiet.
It is a whole new world, the dusk.

I once took a walk in this land of dusk,
To see for myself what secrets the woods
Held for me behind the shadows and the quiet.
The light of the moon
Was all I needed to guide me. It’s shining
Is brighter than any lantern. More like diamonds.

As I walk silently down the path in the dusk,
I begin to imagine what it was like in these woods
A hundred years ago. Had Indians trekked through the same
Quiet, their moccasined feet soundless, their tomahawks shining?
Or had Spanish conquistadors, lusting for gold, diamonds and
El Dorado have marched relentlessly under the same moon?

Perhaps sprites played under the moon,
Like those in the Old World would believe. Or shining
Mermaids under the lake’s surface, glittering with diamonds.
Or perhaps, as the puritans concluded, the dusk
Was filled with witches, demons and hags, breaking the quiet
With their unholy screams in the woods.

Or maybe a runaway slave crouched in these woods,
His heart pounding with fear, the moon
Shining on lips in silent prayer, quiet,
As two men rode by his hiding place, their guns shining.
Their eyes searched greedily, like hunting for diamonds.

These thoughts flitted through my head as I walked in the woods.
I looked with joy upon the shadow-time the Creator made: dusk,
To reflect on past and present in the silver quiet.