Listen To The Sun Go Down

LISTEN TO THE SUN GO DOWN

One evening I walked out
on this rim above Plush,
just to kind of regroup and relax.

It was in the head of the JJ,
just where Honey Creek
breaks out of the canyon,
and into the Warner Valley.

An oldtimer had once told me,
“Anyone can watch the sun go down,
but you have to be able to listen to it to really enjoy it.”
I believe he was right.

Upon a warm September’s eve,
the sun was dipping low.
I sat myself upon a rim,
from there to watch the show.

The shadows were their longest now,
as darkness soon would be.
I closed my eyes and listened,
to the sounds I couldn’t see.

The quail chatted nervously,
about to go to bed.
The hoot-owl screeched a different tune.
His whole night lay ahead.

The rock-chuck whistled one last cry,
and from his warm rock, he did slide.
The deer crept from the willows,
No longer there to hide.

The coyote howled from up on top,
before his nightly quest.
The wasps that had been buzzing were now safe,
within their nest.

The magpie and the meadowlark
and rooster pheasant too, All said,
”See you in the morning,”
and off to roost they flew.

The bobcat didn’t say much
as he tested out the air.
The porcupine wandered to the creek to get a drink from there.

The nighthawks were coming about to life after hiding all day from the sun. The muskrat and the beaver splashed, either working or having fun.

And I can promise you one thing, you’ll smile instead of frown, If you close your eyes and open your ears, and listen to the sun go down.

Leon Flick