"Time Is a Graceless Enemy, but Purls as It Comes and Goes"
I’m winding down. The daylight is winding down.
Only the night is wound up tight.
And ticking with unpaused breath.
Sweet night, sweet steady, reliable, uncomplicated night.
September moon, two days from full,
slots up from the shouldered hill.
There is no sound as the moon slots up, no thorns in its body.
Invisible, the black gondola floats
through down-lid and drowning stars.