206 Readings


Dusk strews its saffron path with puffs
That dream-drift over silver bay
Beyond the westward stretch of bluffs.
Moon stares through contrail’s fleecy gray

Dispersing back to sky, the jet
Now just past earshot. Dusk yields dark
Spread-sparkling city valley, net
Of lamps and isolated spark.

Today: delay at bank; some tiff
About a misdelivered box;
An e-mail glitch; one grudging, stiff
Discussion; disappointing botch,

Then long repair; the lunchroom out
Of chowder just as you arrive…
This twilight you accept, not pout.
Cloud, bay, bluffs, moon all seem alive.
Posted 11/08/15
from Cathedral and Highrise (Rose Alley Press, 2015)
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