Evening
Wednesday, March 31st, 2004after “Evening” by Thomas Merton
Now, in the middle of the soft eveningthe moon cuts the electricity.Everything goes black. Nightcircles you like a spotted mothabout to be eaten by a flame.
There are ice castles,there are mossy trees,there are bearsrolling down hillsideswith their cubs.The earth shakesbuildings down,swallows bridges,stamps out monuments,and washes them with snow,clear as water.
They […]