Posted tagged ‘night falling poem’


December 18, 2014



In the slope out in the yard,
there is a deeper slope
whose uneven slide
stows eventide.

I would like,
like a child in active play,
to roll down its twilit side,
leaf my hair with strands of grass,
land in a spin of laugh.

But I am the child
who lies down
in that depression,
hiding from those
who would seek her
even as she waits for them to near.

We are who we are.

The house by that hill
that holds a hill
is brick-faced, eyed
with glass that, in the day, looks black
reflecting back.

As night falls, some windows turn,
like the gaze of animals, yellow,
while others glower
a powder

blue, ice floes
above the wine-dark lawn, the ground moon
of stuccoed patio,
and the world becomes a sea,
wave-troughed, while you, me–

what do we
become?  We who are
what we are, we with
the contoured hearts,
the chambered darknesses.


Hi.  Sorry to be so out of touch!  This is very very much a draft poem.  I am completely unsure of the last half which I wrote many many different ways.  I wrote it for Grace’s prompt about James Wright, posted a few days ago on with real toads.