Evening Poem, March 1, 2015

What is more fantastic than the coming of night?

This strange turning that takes away the light

As if the planet itself had turned away from the sun,

the source of all energy and life.


Who could believe such an event could occur with such regularity

There is no crazy prophet in the streets, screaming doom, crying that the light is vanishing

No.  It is if this rapid shift from light to darkness

Vision to blindness

Were something normal and meant to be

And that all on this orb would survive till the coming of dawn.


We close our doors and light our lamps

As if those acts were commensurate with this cosmic, planetary change

And turn down the sheets

And say our prayers.

Copyright 2015

copyright 2015

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