Eclipse--A villanelle

A shadow slides across the sun.
Darkness settles on the land.
At the hour of noon the day seems done.

The hawks take flight; the chipmunks run.
The dark’s no place to take a stand.
A shadow slides across the sun.

The wind storms up. Small birds succumb
And hide in thickets, feathers fanned.
At the hour of noon the day seems done.

With force that pounds the rocks and stuns
The strand, waves crash and grind the sand.
A shadow slides across the sun.

Now living things can find no fun
Who now can see nor foot nor hand
At the hour of noon the day seems done.

There’s hope the darkness now at hand
Will pass to light, and will not stand,
But a shadow slides across the sun.
At the hour of noon the day seems done.

Swiftwalker

© 2000, Andrew Twaddle