Eventide Poem by Steven Federle

Eventide



Glowing low through eastern pines
suspended, self-contained,
this perfect world gently refines
the rough, red clouds
of eventide.

Beneath the moon
in throbbing streams, tremor
in the vibrant night,
green cloisters chant their lusty song
glorious noise, rising antiphon.

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Steven Federle

Steven Federle

Cincinnati Ohio
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