Dusky View

I was inspired to write poetry today, so I did. If you know what this is about, I would be surprised. If you know what it means, I would be interested to hear since I'm not entirely sure myself.

Dusky View

Curled like an armadillo,
with its silver back against the gradiated brown,
I watch the invisible rain
dampen my paper like falling fog.
Against the spongy browns of my sandpaper seat
my feet press,
feeling their fine prickles redden my skin.
Away, yards by the ground but a few feet by sight,
the green bush buffalo charges
from the llama fence where it grows.
I wonder if the soft wind stroking my body
chills the buffalo's branchy bones
as it does mine.
The uneven creak of the white-haired woman's chair
riding the crickets
soothes me as my own seat
grows more damp and cold and hard.
Or is it a dark-haired woman,
with just a few hairs fading to gray,
framing the drooping eyes lulled by the crickets
like the fair figure she gently fingers?
I don't know.
From here, you can feel life,
As far as the eye can see,
Until the trees obscure it.
Orion is there, like a friendly man,
completely obscured by the foggy dusk.
With branchy arms, three companions stand
unless their fading shadows and dark sillouettes
warn of a coming gang.
Light comes, below, around, beyond,
but always at a distance
and always spreading shadows.
I wait for morning,
but for now I relish
the height while the sun is down.