Eclipse

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This is the hour of silence,
a dream of days and nights linked together

like the soft hands of a mother and child.
The sky, soft, melting into the lakes of dawn, and
the relaxed lakes floating to mingle with the sky.

An ant turns over a small pebble, then scurries away,


leaving the rock alone, foreshadowed by the large hill in its wake;
blotted out against the sparkling night sky.

Now is the hour when the children sleep
and the moment between dawn and day,
where even the brave rooster doesn’t dare to
crow.





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