Evening

The light passes 
from ridge to ridge, 
from flower to flower— 
the hepaticas, wide-spread 
under the light 
grow faint— 
the petals reach inward, 
the blue tips bend 
toward the bluer heart 
and the flowers are lost.

The cornel-buds are still white, 
but shadows dart
from the cornel-roots—
black creeps from root to root, 
each leaf 
cuts another leaf on the grass,
shadow seeks shadow,
then both leaf
and leaf-shadow are lost.

--H. D. (1886-1961), Angle-American poet