they are moving cattle at the sale barn in the cool of the night
the sound wafts to me as i sit outside the back door at dispatch
breathing the coolness,
listening to bawling cattle
the clank of the trucks
the call and whistling and occasional shouts of the men
killdeers cheeing
here in the parking lot,
there by the road
there is certainly more than one
and i know they are running hither and yon
by the sound of their trilling calls
two bright planets are there in the southern sky
the moon is full, high in the southeastern sky
shining through the still, cool air
a train whistle pierces the darkness,
and the rumble of heavy train on metal track
adds a bass line to the night-time symphony