Evensong Poem by GORDON GILHULY

fireflies moving like finely broken starlight
against the sky-shaped gown of evening
the wind quiets its lascivious moans in the ears of the leaves
whispers sweet nothings to the emptiness
the blue of evening turns velvet,
indigo, lingering like an unspoken hope;
this scented kingdom of fire and shadows;
the singed moon waiting

she, ill-sweatered against the approaching cold, beside him
they watch the fire's last flames lick, hesitate, die
their soft voices, sweet, like pigeons brooding

his words bear his longing up into the darkness like sparks