HOVER-TIME
Reading edition
IT is the hover-time That comes between the light and dark. The little squirrels climb Into their nests in trees and hark To rustly leaves about. Far off, I hear new insect cries— From things which never dare call out In daytime: they're afraid of Eyes. Out from the purply wood The first bat circles on the fly. Far things draw on a hood And shadows hide the place where sky And earth make dim their line. The trees change shape, and soon the gray Blurs into black; and that's the hour When dark comes down to stay.
