dogs bark in evening’s glow

church bells from somewhere below bellow;

and us, staring at the tree limbs shaping or at least framing, the sky

are encompassed in this view of emerging stars…

each, part of some constellation,

our skin tingling in cool evening tones.

whatever we were in the day

is passing, and we are becoming

what we look at well.

i’ve lived through a thousand evenings myself

but this is another, and we are cast into the sky

as beginners until we see it again.

I’m not saying each day is heaven, but

each day offers a keyhole to look through

until we become what we really see there.

that dog is moaning now, hungry for night feedings.

we are cold again on this rooftop, and waiting for morning;

but there again, is that star in red glow rising-seemingly,

not just for hope, but for something warmer like assurance

that morning will come and our skins will warm into another light again

and we will be fully home, in what we already know by each evening’s light.

Derek