Vespers

On this page, blue as a jay’s wing,

some wisp-edged cirrus merge

to orange underbelly, glowing

 

then disband to drift away.

Only the axe of unclothed heat

stays throughout our longest day.

 

Sweat prickles my forearm,

the grass is weasel-brown.

Yet oaks are green, their silent hurt unseen.

 

The glap-glap lapping of a pool:

a lizard at its brink,

flicks an uncool tongue.

 

Hanging like a kiss on the horizon,

the lantern of Venus

hours before dusk prevails.

 

Listen. Stone curlew wail

in darkening distance.

We lie down on our backs, look up

 

watch a lemon slice rise and fall,

seek Cassiopeia’s seat

in a bowl of untainted night.

 

vii. 2026