Vignette: Late Evening Fare in the Park

This is a small poetic narrative vignette that I wrote the fall before last, while visiting a park I had come into the habit of frequenting to think and write. I often took short walks there after dusk, and, finally coming to rest at a nearby picnic table one evening, I found the charming little scene captivating, and tried to capture the mood with the bit of a story I tell here. I applied very few edits to the raw sketch, since, sometimes, I think original impressions convey an idea best and clearest. Hope you like it. Thanks!

Amid the azure-dusky town-park's cool grasses, the sycamore and birch silhouette the gloaming sky, their umbral shadows veiled beneath the darkling eve. There, the little hare scampers into the lamppost's failing glow, to find his sup among the day's closing blooms. I say, “hello,” he blinking his large brown eyes anxiously in reply. Retreating to his shady nook beneath the creek-bridge, he looks to quiet shelter from the old man walking, who stops to kindly remark, “nice weather tonight.” I nod, with a smile, as, his shape disappearing into the dark, my little companion returns to his evening fare. He in his tufts of green, and I, upon my bench, share our day's end-view out over the empty autumn garden boxes, with naught but an oft-knowing glance betwixt, in the late hour's stilly reserve. We stray, each contented, aloft our chosen plots, until a chill begins to set between us; and, he, shuffling off to nestle warm in his late-season burrow, bids me goodnight and farewell, the day's final friend now fled. Alone I make parting, as the evening beetle comes to claim his night-watch post amongst the settling dews.