Monday, November 18, 2013

Dusk

Dusk

If I sit on the right rock by the river
Some of water wanders over like a
Horse to green verge of the pasture.

The mailman arrives after sundown;
Milkman, town crier, lamplighter,
Another day he will come no more.

Parents draw their curtains against
The dark, doors click shut, even as
Girls giggle on all down the street.

A single bird hurtles or is hurtled to
The south into someone else’s fate.

Venus hangs above the silhouette
Of the leafless black walnut tree.

There is no defense for any of this.

The one I wanted goes back inside.

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