Evensong: Grafton Heights Poem by GORDON GILHULY

fireflies moving like finely shattered starlight


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