The sky darkens
And the air grows light
It’s mid-spring and mid-evening
A star here and there in the long heavens
And the very last of the birdsongs
.
The blossoming dogwood
Is incandescent in the twilight
As if it has absorbed the light of day
And returns it now, as if alive
As if singing the myth of its origin
The wood of the cross?
The four-petaled flower
Bearing the stigmata?
.
And the whine of the night train
Sings to the motionless, silent stars
They are not jealous of its freedom
They see all, and live forever
.
Now the scent of lavender floats
Invisible hints of what you once imagined might be
What you think was irretrievably lost
.
It is cool enough for walking
And you wish it could last forever this way
You gliding into the deepening blue
Remembering and awakening to
One unimpeached hope
That every imperfect thing obstructs
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