Night falls over prairie waters, and every sound seems to join in. Birds call in pairs, their chatter blending with the continuous hush of running water. The water is so clear it reveals old stones tinged russet, as if they remember past rains. Overhanging willows seem heavy with all that music, resting drowsily on the stream’s surface. The speaker hears this as a kind of evening choir—birds’ feathery throats and stony waters chanting together like new psalms. When the red moon rises and sends down its low, laughing light, the beauty becomes almost too much to bear. The willows sink deeper into sleep on the water’s shoulders. The mood is hushed, reverent, and dreamy, as if the prairie night turns ordinary sounds and sights into something sacred and lulling.
Prairie Waters by Night — Summary
Chatter of birds two by two raises a night song joining a litany of running water — sheer waters showing the russet of old stones remembering many rains.
And the long willows drowse on the shoulders of the running water, and sleep from much music; joined songs of day-end, feathery throats and stony waters, in a choir chanting new psalms.
It is too much for the long willows when low laughter of a red moon comes down ; and the willows drowse and sleep on the shoulders of the running water.