End Of Night, In Your Honor
by Todd Jackson
This time, above others, is Apollo’s:
Ancient Night has stretched long, like the North winter stretches long.
There is a blur of purple at the black horizon.
In moments it is spread to a violet efflorescence in the Sky, but
It has not yet rested upon the tree-tops.
The dew still buds, unmelted.
The road is swallowed in the dark.
The crows are awake, and shouting.
Copyright © 2007, Todd Jackson