Crepuscular Creature

Rhythm raises static in the air,
the wash lifts small mammal hair.
Sensing the wake of the beat
shrew waits as death takes a seat.

Moisture drips from the roof
of an autumn beech cloister.
In dusk's transition to dark
the shape fuses with shadow.

Flat face, statue-still in the murk,
a ready beak, like a drawn dirk.
Scoping head and saucer stare,
searching this settling night.

Sound of broken silence touches
the facial dish of the knowing head;
turning in the dark…directing sound
to eager ears and searching eyes.