Late Afternoon

Day, feather-soft
Hour-hand-slow,
Steps quietly into
Late afternoon.

There are fairy tales
Hiding just under
Warm green-gold leaves and
Cool moss-robed rocks,
    For those who would
See them.

Waters seem deeper,
In these hours,
And breeze to
Carry richer life.

We are wiser from the day,
Fuller from its grace
If we but accept
This sacred moment:

This chance for solitude.