Twilight
After a painting by Monique Belitz
In the twilight, she walks through the orchard,
the dog trotting at her heels, past the brush pile
and the old pond that no longer holds water.
She shuts the chickens in their coop and latches
the door. Clouds shroud the mountain.
Black birds peck the sunflowers’ last seeds.
In the dusk, the heath asters are white stars.
The cat stalks through dried grasses. First frost
rims the low leaves of the avens. Above,
the burnt umber of the mountain.
She strides towards the house, sheltered
behind the adobe wall, where a pot of stew
simmers on the stove and the rooms
under the low beams are warm refuge.
The mountain watches over the village.
Later, she will step through the curtain
from the kitchen into her studio,
put on Monteverdi, settle
at her worktable, and paint the garden
and the mountain. Always the mountain.
About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land, The Eden of Perhaps, and A Coracle for Dreams (Spartan Press), and her fourth collection Love Song to Gravity has come out from Stubborn Mule Press in 2025. Agnes is associate editor of Thimble Literary Magazine and host of the Poetry at the Pub reading series in Rolla. Her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines; you can read some of them on her website agnesvojta.com.
Image Credit: Monique Belitz “Twilight”
As It Ought To Be 