The light is draining from the day

And the lanterns in the tree begin to gleam.
There's woodsmoke on the wind tonight
A neighbor's fire stoked to cut the chill.
I carry my tools to the darkening shed
Behind me undulant piles of dun leaves.
I lift my face toward the flat gray sky
And think that this place and moment
Is as perfect as I could ever ask.
And if I never worked against the dusk
Or felt cold air or weary shoulders
Never dragged the wet and soggy mass
Now fallen from my neighbor's tree
I could not know this moment's peace
Just as lanterns only cheer in dark
And have no impact in the sun.