The Song of Twilight

Summary

Erika Burkhalter captures the essence of twilight in nature through a poetic narrative and photography, reflecting on the sensory experience of an evening bike ride in the hills.

Abstract

In "The Song of Twilight," Erika Burkhalter shares a deeply personal encounter with nature's evening chorus. Through vivid imagery and evocative language, she describes the transition from day to night, highlighting the sounds and sights that envelop her during a bike ride. The poem and accompanying photos transport readers to the mustard fields and willow trails, where the calls of birds, the buzz of bees, and the rustle of spring create a symphony that resonates with the author's own sense of awe and oneness with the environment. Burkhalter's experience is not just a physical journey but a spiritual immersion into the heart of nature, culminating in a moment of surrender to the greater forces around her.

Opinions

The author expresses a profound connection with nature, particularly during the twilight hours.
There is a sense of reverence for the natural world, as evidenced by the detailed descriptions of the sights and sounds of the evening.
The act of stillness and listening is presented as a way to fully appreciate and become part of the natural environment.
The author's passion for photography and nature is evident, as she captures and shares the beauty of the scene with her audience.
The experience of twilight is portrayed as both thrilling and terrifying, indicating a complex emotional response to the transition from day to night.
Burkhalter suggests that the natural world's beauty is something worth preserving and protecting, as indicated by her call to support the arts and writing on Medium.
The author values the community of writers on Medium and encourages readers to contribute to the platform to sustain creative work.

Vanishing into the whispering of the hay, the willows, and the falling curtain of the night

“Under a Bruised Sky.” The Willows Trail. Photo ©Erika Burkhalter

Bruised from the twilight, the sky hangs dark and low over the glow of the mustard.

The dry rustle of spring stirs birds and trees. The greening has begun from within, an audible sigh of new life springing from every twig and patch of boggy earth.

The birth of nature’s evening symphony rides in on the back of a swallow, as it dips and dives, tracing Rorschach patterns over oyster-veined clouds.

Throaty amphibian croaks compose the undernotes, and, above, hums the buzz of bees, cooled by the evening breeze, their translucent wings unable to hang onto the heat.

The last staccato cry of the mating hawks echoes from the hollow of the old scrub oaks, bursting with need and lust and burgeoning want, and I feel myself trembling, becoming one with the gloaming.

The tapestry of song rises and falls, swelling with the wind and dying with a breathy sigh.

And, as much as I’d like to hold onto this moment, this song of twilight, what can I do, but vanish, into the whispering of the hay and the willows and the falling curtain of the night?

Author’s note — It is my habit to ride my mountain bike, most evenings, just before twilight, back into the hills. A few days ago, I was out a little later than normal and I paused, half caught in the thrill of the nightfall and half terrified of what I might encounter out there. I stilled myself for an endless moment, just listening to the sounds of twilight descending all around me.

The swallows dipped across the sky in search of bugs, the bees buzzed in the mustard fields all around me, and the hawks, who I have come to know (somewhat intimately) through my attempts to photograph them over the last year or so, screamed in lust, for it is mating season right now. I did not hurry home, but rather, hovered in the falling of night, vanishing into something much bigger than myself.

Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem, or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies).

POETRY

The Song of Twilight

Vanishing into the whispering of the hay, the willows, and the falling curtain of the night

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