Monday, April 11, 2011

Dining Outside after Sunset In April

Doves sighing in the roofless silo where the barn used to be,

Stars appearing so thick they shudder through a southern breeze,

A few words shared, angular amid the gleaming notes of frogsong,

Better to just listen, moving closer to the fire,

Watching the empty wine bottle soften in the embers,

Sidereal all the long night and smelling of smoke,

Nothing to fear but memory, disconnected.





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