The shadow of the earth rolls up behind us, covering these hills with the dome of night. Katydids sing.
The round moon with its tranquil sea floats out of the woods at our backs and floods the fields with half-light.
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths,
Of night and light and the half-light.
That's Yeats, wishing for the "cloths of heaven" to spread under his lover's feet.
We have them here.
copyright 2010 J. O'Brien, all rights reserved
