At Twilight

Twilight soaks colour from the land
Like a dirty sponge pressing down
it empties the fields, the fenceposts, 
the sky, the pebbles in the path 

I can see the future
I can see the Enemy before I must engage Him 

Across the field
a walker and his dog
slink darkly through grasses nearly void of green
moving like pupils in a gaze that follows me
My dog strains the leash
pointing his black muzzle like
the gloved finger of an accuser