Evensong: Grafton Heights
fireflies moving like finely shattered starlight
by GORDON GILHULY
against the sky-shaped gown of evening;
the wind tongues its lascivious moans in the ears of the leaves,
whispers sweet nothings to the world.
the blue of evening turns velvet,
indigo, lingering like an unspoken hope;
the singed moon waiting.
you, beside me, thick-sweatered against the approaching cold,
we watch the fire's last flames lick, hesitate, die;
our soft voices, sweet, like pigeons brooding.
my words bear my longing up into the darkness like sparks