The last song hits the evening,
Sudden sound alone in the fading light.
Darkness comes soon in these parts.
In seconds day has turned to night
And the sleep calls fade off to the
lush green jungle, screeching song, plain,
Sheltering in the night noises, sight
Hidden till the sun rises again.
Alive are the trees with the calling,
The chatter, like women who wash
Down at the river, pounding, stalling,
Fending off the heat, babies cling,
A million tiny creatures, moist falling,
And the birds.
Always the birds.