With the days end the shadows grow to the end, reaching to the horizon, a sun colored cloud floats overhead, burning the candles end. No longer is the evening meal in dark, twilight flickers over the landscape. Headlights bounce off the barren branches of trees, cresting the hill, diving down the rise to disappear behind the next hill. Over the crest the headlights reappear to begin their descent into flat bush grounds. Curling on the dimly lit horizon the parade of lights ushers forth the evening.
Red tail lights splatter the sparkling silver of on coming cars. rolling christmas trees are mixed in, clearance markers of amber define the trailers edge. Passing by, going from somewhere to somewhere. Land ships passing in the evening, marching to the close of another day.
No longer do I sit in darkness to watch the parade approach. Miles away can be seen the sparking glitter of oncoming vehicles. At times the tri-headlights of approaching train pierces the eve. A low rumble can be heard as the cars trample the rails, shaking the earth. The engines grumble as the cars clatter over the iron road. Closer the train approaches, clicking of the wheels over the rail joints. Soon it will be a low level din competing with the passing trucks. A pleasant tone of the transportation orchestra floats over the land. The horn ushers forth its bleat as it approaches the grade crossing in downtown. Soon it will be gone into the distance, swallowed up by the horizon.
The cows graze across the pasture on other side. Occasional moo echoing over the basin. Lights move over the pasture, cattle perk up, chase after the pick up as it spreads feed out for their evening meal. Youngsters scurry to get in the food line. The pick up circles round, eyes peer out the window intently looking at his stock.
Watching the evening pass brings a joy, the moment is quiet, the calm of time is expanding. No longer do I watch the tableau unfold late afternoon, now the twilight is later and I can pause for a few over the meal. Looking out my small frame on the window of the world passing my pathway. Long nights are fleeting, warm evenings are approaching. Easy chair on the courtyard beckons, snow pile reminds, to the warmth of the kitchen and fixing the meal continues.