Dusk

Written by Mollie Small

Photography by Mollie Small

Between day and night,
Like neither waking nor sleeping but both,
We may pass through her indoors as if all our senses are muted;
But outside, if we happen to look up,
We pause at the pink stained sky
And the gathering stillness.
It's colder under the warm light.
We will be sleeping when she brings back the dawn.
It is a quiet hour.
A rhythm is born from the grass as crickets meet
Birdsong and bullfrogs,
Inviting the hunted to cross the ridge,
As if it is a sacred hour-
Somehow safer than before.
She is tied to time.
It seems that you can catch her only if you can also let her go:
But maybe it is she that catches you,
Leaving you listening for the interlude
Between day and night,
Longing for her return.

Moon thru Branches

Written By Kat Lukov

Photography By Mollie Small

The oak's leaves are hushed.
The moon disrupts the sky.
A nighthawk sighs.