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| Sunset, Seven, One |
Neighbors on back porches in July,
Praising the coolness of evening
After a good day's work,
The corn growing and the swallows feeding,
Apples showing in their leaves, rain at night,
The dog, recovered, sleeping at our feet,
No one we love just dead or dying in July,
The sky magnificent early, magnificent late,
An hour's quiet in the ceasura of July,
The slowing flow, the fading light,
Neon fireflies rising from wet grass
To constellate the trees —
Sweet land, of thee we sing.
