The day is nearly done
Unblemished by the works of human hand
With gentle push, the sun slips ever lower
Beneath horizons, below hilltops, behind houses,
And lights the long shadows of foreboding;
Families regather, shelter is sought
From lonely hillsides to menacing street
Fires are lit for the evening treat
In townscapes caught in the unnatural glare
The false solace of man-made brightness;
Comfort and anguish mingle together
Bedpartners in unlikely clasp
Trying to cancel out mortal peaks and troughs
Eating the crumbs of comfort
That the evening brings.