The sun's coming down
The mountain
The gates
Of all the walled villages
In these mountains
Are open
The roads that lead
Into them
Are like hands
Calling the cattle and sheep back
Late on their way home
Children out from school
People back from their labour
And so walled villages
Keep all that is theirs
Only still no trace of the hunters
And there's a child
Still sitting on the slope
Watching the sun
Come down the mountains
The sun
In its last mischievous moment
Smears the mountaintops
And slides down
Towards where
Black night's open mouth waits
To gulp it down
Just then
The child hears his mother calling
Startled night's jaws hang wide
On a long delay
At that moment
He didn't know
Where the sun went
Or in whose care
He now found himself
