Dusk grew a tender purple

A note was played by the wind chime on the veranda

Warm wind releasing the day’s heat swept up from the land

Away to our left the just set sun glowed above mountain tops

There’s Hesq, settled in the wicker rocking chair

Glass of vin rouge lovingly held between his two middle fingers

Its bowl moving gently with the chair

Three yards away I leaning against the veranda fence, one foot up against it,

Looking down at the floor, watching light-faded beetles bump into my shoe

Turn around find another away in the floor board cracks.

We’ve been finding other ways ourselves but finally made it here

Two roamers contemplating the path bewilderedly followed

Glad that it should reach this sunset lay-by

There’s really not much to say