This soft evening light can't last.
The light shapes move towards me, shaping me, threatening impermanence.
It's the moment of optimism for nocturnal possibility and the relief I survived another day.
Quiet descends, my tears sting, despite being eyeliner free/loveliner free.
Red cockrel wattle/displays of courtship.
Permanently marked names of animals on aging hand/desire to be loved by goats.