Shadows lengthen. They grow
in the shrinking presence of the sun
stretching out into sticks and string,
then spreading with grace across the floor
in effortless puppetry.

This umbral high-tide brings a chill
to the Girl on the rock. Without movement
her skin acknowledges the lack of light;
not even the horse flies on her limbs decide to stir
so still she has been, watching.

Watching her sunset – for it is hers –
and waiting for the fairy-tale
thunder-clouds to cover the sky
and cast her into abys-like black
away from prying eyes,

where she can at last
uncoil her arms, unwind
her hair, and throw back
a glance of golden-green before
the depths close on her tail.