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the shapes of trees are known at dusk

stars shine through

piercing shadows that grumble softly

all the world is a ruse, they say

a perfection of ancient surprises tamed only through unending rodeos

brought to clerks wearing bathrobes

mumbling tree chants

the offering is lit

smoke wavers up

drifting towards oblivion

citizens arrive for a free concert in the park

sandwiches are unwrapped, so delicious

beer cans pop

then someone notices

nameplates fading

smoke disappearing

no one can be seen

no one has left

the chanting stops

far away

a bird sings evensong