EVENING COMES

A mountain draws in deeper
root, tangle, trunk, cloud –
the whole of branches threaded through it.

This hour – the last
spokes of sunlight down through cedar,
sky unpainting everything in shadow,
forest filling up with darkness –

Come, distance,
so wordless.
Come, winter.
Come, burden.


Words and image by Sarah Rehfeldt. Please do not copy without my permission.

Poem published in Appalachia, vol. LXVII, no. 1 (Winter/Spring 2016);
reprinted in Northern Cardinal Review (March 2016).