 |
| Coming Monday night. Earth & Sky illustration. |
The throaty voice of the woods leafing in civil twilight,
Its branches wet, the weak ones fallen across the path
Where one man walks with the moon at perigee,
Telling himself to temper his excitements and his dreams.
You'd think he would have learned by now to hedge
His bets, after all that he's lived through, and yet,
And yet, he walks the path expecting violets.
