Evening Poem, June 11, 2016


The fireflies lift out of the grass
Like mist off a warm lake
The lawns are mown and trimmed
And in this soft light
Admit no imperfection
Even and full as carpet
Their edges trimmed and routered
Straight against the roadway, the walkway.
The sky cannot make up its mind
Here is the moon and the first star
But in the west it is pink and baby blue
As if darkness shall not come
As if darkness has been superseded
Done away with.
As if daylight really has been saved up.
Children are in bed now
Some of them even asleep
As light continues.

Copyright 2016

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